


Memento Vivere

by rivlee, Steorie



Series: The Long Way Home [10]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Kid Fic, M/M, Spartacus Big Bang, past off screen character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steorie/pseuds/Steorie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 71 BCE, Spartacus and his forces are nearing the end of the rebellion. After a failed escape plan, Agron and a handful of others are separated and forced to flee on the seas south to survive. This is the story of how they learn to live and cope in a new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Rivlee, Art by Steorie. 
> 
> **Warnings:** As Agron is suffering an injury, this fic deals with the mental state of coping with a bodily injury and feeling useless. I know this can be triggering for some people, so I’m putting that warning here. There are also some scenes that can be construed as ptsd-flashbask-esque. There is also a mention of off-screen character death via crucifixion, though none such torture is described. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Spartacus belongs to Starz. This is a fanwork with no profit made of offense intended. Part titles come from _Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
> 
>  **Notes:** This fic is both a canon and historical alternate universe take on what occurs in _Spartacus_ post- _Vengeance_. Anything that occurs in _War of the Damned_ not seen in the pre-season promos is strictly coincidence and this will not be compliant with that continuation of the story. In terms of history, while inspired by the actual time period and events of the last battles of the historical rebellion, this completely deviates from that as well. Gannicus’ death occurs much earlier in this fic ‘verse than it did in history. Modern German phrases and writing are used at times within the fic in place of what would’ve been the written Germanic runes and the spoken language of the time. 
> 
> On the art: All the amazing artwork for this fic was done by Miss Steorie. The pictures are combined with the text and when you click on them you can go to photobucket to download the full sized files. I highly suggest you do this as there are so many amazing details and so much work put into them, you owe it to yourself to appreciate the full beauty.

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/MementoVivereRememberToLive_zps04005b99.png.html)

**  
_Memento Vivere_   
**

** Part I: The Ship was Cheer'd, the Harbour Clear'd  **

_Regium_

The smell of the sea was still unfamiliar to Agron. He knew the scent of the Rhine, of meadows, and mountains of snow. He knew the smell of sand stained with blood; of the aging stone of the temple; of the sulfur of Vesuvius; and of the wet animal skin that covered their tents and bodies. He knew the smell of war, of victory, of sex. The smell of the sea only brought him joy once, when they raided the port of Neapolis. There he sought revenge for Duro and for all those taken and sold like cattle. Otherwise, the sea reminded him of slavery and Agron would never willingly take to it again.

Spartacus had sent them to the southernmost reaches of this land. They were to attempt an escape with stolen ships; a deal struck among the Cilicians. Nasir claimed they were a well-known empire of pirates and people well-versed with the ways of the sea. Agron was certain the gods would fuck them over as they always did. He had no desire to sail on a ship again but his desires mattered little now. The ships were a required part of the plan and the best way to travel with spring upon them. 

They had attempted to flee north to Gallia last year. It was a doomed plan from the start, Agron far from enthusiastic for life in a land and among a people he despised. They lost Crixus there among the frozen rocks of an early winter. Even now though, Agron would’ve taken that path over the mountains, if it meant avoiding the sea. The ships were their only way out of Crassus’ path and away from Rome. Agron hated giving up the fight but they were outnumbered and out-strategized and they all knew it. They’d been falling apart for months now, Agron one of the few still loyal to Spartacus’ orders, and the inner-conflict was as much a threat as the legions. Still, they made Rome tremble and come with her armies. It was an achievement for a rebellion that started in one ludus. 

He wished such pride offered comfort in these uncertain times but he knew better. There was a tension in the wind and a dark cloud that had followed them ever since their numbers grew too vast to easily manage. Marina, one of the Greeks among them, always remarked how the gods despised hubris and how this whole rebellion had a sense of doom to it. All fell under the heel of Rome; it was only a matter of when and how harsh the punishment. He remembered her words now as he rested on the deck and not on the battleground beside Spartacus. He’d grown accustomed to open land and not the confines of this small merchant ship. He now lived on a miniscule wooden home of nothing but sails, a steering oar, water tank and storage below, and their canvas bedding tents on deck. It felt as much a cell as it did a salvation. 

Agron should’ve been on the dock of the port at the very least, not tucked away under a tarp in some cove outside of Regium waiting for the end of battle. If he walked out on the deck he could see Sicily across the strait; the small distance mocked them with waters too choppy to cross with anything but real ships. Agron clenched his fist in frustration as a powerful wave rocked the boat. He hated this feeling, this helplessness, but he dared not complain. He’d almost lost an arm, as Nasir took to reminding him each morn, and he’d earned the right to sit-out of a battle. Inaction did not calm Agron. It made him seethe with rage at the Romans, at himself, at the poorly trained recruits who failed to guard his back, at the fact his wound was caused by a rebel weapon fallen into Roman hands. Mere inches saved Agron’s arm and his life. The axe, when it embedded, went deep but at an angle that just left a wound. It didn’t hit artery or chip bone; it merely cut through muscle and tendon leaving his left side mostly incapacitated. The only way to let it heal was rest. Agron fucking despised the notion. He was a man of action and did not like leaving his fate and the protection of his loved ones in other hands. It had been three week of constant throbbing pain with no little healing to a wound that kept reopening. He kept ripping his stitches and now he paid for it with his confinement. 

He felt mocked by the sound of lapping water and the memoires it brought of a life before Rome. Agron looked up from the pile of rough linen that was his bed and grimaced as the wound pulled on his shoulder. He tried to concentrate on anything but the pain. He was useless now, considered too much dead weight until he healed, so Spartacus had banished him to one of the ships. He was told that they’d already lost too many leaders. A year ago it was Oenomaus and Mira. Five months ago was Crixus, followed by Gannicus halfway through the winter. Spartacus claimed Agron was too valuable to lose, now with only Castus, Naevia, and Nasir to lead, and so Agron was forced away from his leader’s side. Even with all the skill and talent among the others, no one could guard Spartacus as well as Agron; he feared the result of this separation. All claimed it temporary; Agron could feel Death waiting and watching for each of them. This whole plan felt foolish. Even so, he would see this charge to its end.

They’d already paid coin, raided from villas, to rent the fleet. This ship was the smallest and designated for the sick and the young among their forces. They’d been granted a handful of Agron and Naevia’s trusted fighters to protect them. That was the crew of their ship; Nasir, Donar, Camilla, Lydon, and Sigihild able to fight. Naevia was their master strategist. She still fought, could do it at a moment’s notice, but there was a caution to her movements now. Arieh was but half-a-year old and already son to a dead father. Among the youths were the two closest to Donar, Seti and Thais. Seti, just twelve years, and Thais, barely ten, were still children and considered too young to bear arms. The adults knew they _could_ , if situation called for it, but none wanted the children to lose even more of their innocence. That Seti and Thais already had the blood of Romans on their hands filled Agron both with pride and disgust. 

“German,” Kyros, their navigator called, “come and greet the sun. We prepare to move out.”

“Yes, Agron, please stop your sulking,” Nasir agreed.

Agron kicked at the wall of the tent where they stood and ignored their amused laughter. He would never deny Nasir a chance at friendship; he was just growing far too close to Kyros for Agron’s taste. He expected to wake one morning to find Nasir with scarf tied around his head and tattoos on his face and arms like his new friend. Kyros came from the East, like Nasir. He was an orphan, like Nasir, and brother to a lost sibling as well—or so he claimed. It was all too convenient, and Agron wished he could easily seek Spartacus out for advice and wisdom. 

It was not only his advice Agron craved. Ever since the first splinters started among their troops, when all of them, Spartacus, Crixus, and Gannicus sought different goals, Agron had been desperate for the aid of those fallen. Gods, did he miss Mira and Oenomaus when the first internal conflict flared. He could use those calm, wise voices now telling him to worry less about his solid foundation with Nasir and more about Crassus’ forces and their own depleted numbers.

The gods well knew rational thought was not a common occurrence for Agron, so he could not so easily turn from the concern of losing Nasir’s affection to another. If Saxa was here she’d advise him to make a very public demonstration of his lover’s claim. He missed her company; Lugo and Castus as well. He ordered them, begged really, to never stray from Spartacus’ side. He trusted them to protect him where Agron could not. He tried to get Donar and Nasir to do the same but they’d have none of it. 

He wondered what the others would say, those dead and lost. Duro would’ve never let the axe land in the first place, and they would’ve never been banished to these ships. Even so, Duro was always the better at making friends of the two. He’d sidle up to Kyros and have him spilling all his secrets before he realized it. Gannicus would just give his mocking laugh and tell him he deserved whatever came. Crixus, well—as Agron heard Arieh’s cries, he knew that Crixus would promise Agron he was right where he should be. 

“Agron, please come,” Thais pleaded in her soft voice. They all knew he could deny her nothing, the cheating bastards. 

“Using a child to achieve your aims,” Agron yelled out to them. “Do you have no honor?”

“Obviously not,” Donar answered.

Agron rolled his eyes and slipped out of the tent. Nasir was the first upon him and he patiently sat on a barrel as his wound was inspected. He cursed quietly under his breath as Nasir pressed down and made noises of concern.

“It doesn’t look well,” Nasir said. “We must take you to a proper healer.”

“Unless you find one in the waves, you’re my medicus,” Agron said. 

“He’ll need more than that if he doesn’t stop wallowing,” Naevia said. There was a small smile on her lips, more than any Agron had seen in the past year. “We are to wait for the signal then we will move out. I want all of us present.”

Nasir squeezed Agron’s neck before taking his spot at the rigging system for the rudder oars. Lydon and Sigihild were already in place to aid in the steerage as well. He looked around to find Donar discussing the sails with Kyros. Seti eagerly listened to them as he practiced pulling the ropes taut. 

Camilla held Arieh while Naevia leaned forward to study the coast line. It was odd to see Camilla with a child; she had become quite the warrior since they raided her villa. Marina was Arieh’s normal minder, but she was needed on the field to pass Spartacus’ words to those who only spoke Greek. Without Marina here Camilla took the position as child-minder though Agron knew those soft hands were just as capable of taking life. She was the best archer among them, trained by Mira and Lucius. She and Naevia, both former house-slaves, now stood proud as tried warriors. 

He could see the hawk that was supposed to be Spartacus’ signal take flight, yet something wasn’t right. There wasn’t enough activity. He only saw a few ships near the coast and they looked abandoned. No signs of life were present and Agron couldn’t spy any of the rebel forces or the Cilician crews in the distance. 

He turned to find Naevia at his back. She gripped his arm and Agron knew something had gone terribly wrong. The sudden sound of war trumpets and drums confirmed it. 

“Fuck,” Donar muttered loud enough for all to hear.

“Where are the others?” Seti asked. 

Agron patted his head with his injured arm. “I’m sure they’re coming,” he lied. 

A shadow fell over them and he turned to find Nasir at his side. There was a dark look on his face and Agron caught the slight twitch of his fingers, wishing for one of his beloved spears no doubt. Agron stood and they all moved as one to the side of the ship closest to the shore.

War cries carried on the wind and Agron dropped his head. They should be out there fighting alongside their brothers and sisters. Seti was wrapped around Agron’s knees, while Thais clung to Camilla’s skirts, and Arieh let out a distressed cry. The three children were enough to give Agron pause. They couldn’t risk Arieh’s life. He was all that remained of Crixus save memory and legend. 

“We should go help them,” Donar said as he moved to release the sails.

“No, wait,” Kyros protested. 

There was a loud roar followed by a thunderous explosion and Agron immediately crouched down to cover Seti. He watched in horror, Nasir close to his wounded side, as the Romans shot balls of fire at the dock and small fleet of ships. He could not see just what was hit, only flames and smoke. They were cutting off the way to sea. There would be no escape by ship for the rebels still on land. 

“We must turn back!” Camilla yelled. 

Kyros’ face was blank. “We turn into our own doom then. The ships will all sink before we reach them. _We_ will sink if we get closer to the winds and the fire.”

“We cannot just leave them there,” Agron said. “Can we not go to another side of the coast?” He turned to Naevia. “Did Spartacus not speak with you of a second meeting place in case this happened?”

Naevia’s jaw was tense as she shook her head. 

“We cannot abandon them; not like this,” he growled. 

“Agron, we must,” Naevia said. It was an order, one only Naevia had the strength and sense to make. 

This was all that was left of their rebel forces; Agron, Nasir, Naevia, Lydon, Sigihild, Camilla, Donar, and the children. 

“Agron, please,” Naevia said as she turned to him with softer eyes. “There are only nine of us now, including the helmsman, and only four are able to fight. We must go.”

It was the initial plan, to run to safety, for Agron to recover and to transfer Naevia, Camilla, and the children to another ship and a place of freedom. 

Naevia gripped Nasir’s shoulder. “Take your place at the rudder. We should leave now so that we stay undetected. 

Agron barely felt the kiss Nasir dropped on his shoulder. All his senses were focused on that slip of land and the burning ships in the water. This wasn’t right, something didn’t fit. How the fuck did those Roman shits know? 

He turned on Kyros. “You,” he hissed. “Your fucking people did this to us. They sold us out to those fucking Romans, didn’t they?”

“They are not my people,” Kyros said. “I was forced into their service as a boy. Do you not see why I took us so far out from the other ships?”

A stunned silence fell over the deck. There was prior knowledge then; Kyros’ words confirmed it. Agron would’ve had Kyros by the throat if both his arms were in working order. As it was, he’d make do with one. 

“Agron, no!” Naevia yelled as she stepped between them. “Let him speak.”

He glared down at her. “What worth would his words have?”

“Everything is not always as you see it,” Naevia hissed. She placed her hand on Agron’s arm. “Sit the fuck down and hear words.”

“There were others!” Agron yelled. “There were hundreds of others we could have saved.”

“And how would we all slip-out without detection? I brought the concerns to your leader. He was adamant about who was to board this ship and how far I was to take her out. It was his last gift to you all. I would not waste it.” Kyros pulled a scrap of paper from his vest and held it with a tattooed, calloused hand. “He gave me this. He said to hand it to the angry German. There are three of you but I’m assuming he meant you.” He held it out to Agron.

It contained one simple phrase, written in the very German he’d taught Spartacus.

_There is always a choice._

  
[](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/esgibtimmereinewahl_zpsa5028e1c.png.html)

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/EsgibtimmereineWahl-Agron_zps75a4000b.png.html)   


*****************************

 

Sleep would not come to Agron or to any of them that night. The children only dozed because their bodies demanded it. Kyros informed them they were headed towards Africa. Best to get to Alexandria and hide in the ever busy movements of its port. There would be other stops along the way, but Alexandria was their ultimate goal. It was the largest and busiest port to be found on the African coast and an easy one to disappear into if required. Where they went from there was anyone’s guess.

Agron never dreamed of Alexandria. He hadn’t even known of its existence until he came to Rome. He now knew, through the knowledge of Nasir and Camilla, it housed a library, a whole plethora of written works. His tribe kept their history in their tongues. They had no need for large archives when the mythology was in the very roots of the forest. Other than that, he remained ignorant of what its port held.

He shifted and froze as his wound scraped against the soft fabric of their bedding. Nasir had warned him about sleeping on his side, how Agron would always roll onto his back, but Agron insisted he would never sleep if forced upon his belly. Most nights he’d succeeded, but tonight old habits became default behavior. 

He shifted to his good side before tangling his fingers in their beloved bedding. They’d stolen it from some villa in the north. It was softer than anything Agron had slept on in ages, dyed red, and now smelling of the sea. He could still remember when he saw it, mouth gone dry at the thought of Nasir laid over it, and knew he had to take it. Gannicus had nearly pissed himself with tears but helped Agron roll it up and carry it to the camp. Now it felt like a manifestation of his guilt. Why should he have this when the others could be lying on the ground dead, or in mid-torture, or huddled in some cave? 

“Stop it,” Nasir softly ordered. He placed his hand over Agron’s and smoothed out his clenched fist. “This is not what any of them would’ve wanted.”

“No, they’d want to be free and breathing,” Agron spat. 

Nasir sat up with a sigh. He rested a hand against Agron’s forehead as if checking for a fever. 

“Spartacus, as a leader, made a choice. Naevia, as one of his subordinates, followed that order. You are doing exactly what he would have wished. You are here, helping to see a child of his heart, one he could never have of his own, to a better life. A free life, Agron. Do not tarnish this with your anger.”

Agron carefully laid on his back and sighed. He looked into Nasir’s concern eyes and couldn’t deny the comfort they offered. He tangled his fingers in Nasir’s hair, a familiar gesture, and one that always grounded him. 

“How can you be so calm about this?” he asked.

Nasir shrugged. “We never had much of a chance. Our forces have lain half-shattered and in constant conflict for months. Out of all the ends we could have had, Agron, this is the best.” Nasir pulled him up into a quick, harsh kiss. “I thought you dead. If you expect me to mourn the fact we now have a chance to live, you will be disappointed.”

Agron smiled but it felt broken. “I would never want to disappoint you.”

“I would hope not,” Nasir said. “There is nothing to be done now, Agron. Your worry and your sleeplessness will only hinder us at this point.”

Agron scoffed. “Like I am such a fucking asset now.”

Even in the low-light coming from the stars he could see Nasir’s eyes narrow. That never boded well for Agron.

“We need your mind, you fucking idiot.”

“What makes mine so much better than Naevia’s? Or yours?”

“Neither Naevia or I were in planning sessions limited to you, Spartacus, Crixus, and Gannicus. The very strategists of this rebellion from the start two years ago were you, Spartacus, and Mira. Naevia and I know how to handle supplies. We know how to sort out issues among the troops. We were not raised to be war-leaders.”

“Donar was raised a warrior; as was Sigihild. Lydon was trained in the ludus by Oenomaus’ own hand.”

“All of them raised to be followers. _You_ were trained to be a leader.”

Agron shook his head. “And it has done me so well. What do I have to show for it? Brother dead, beloved friends gone or abandoned. Distrust from Spartacus who shared his plans with Naevia and that fucking helmsman before me. Does that speak of faith in my leadership? What of all my kin I’ve condemned to death?”

“It was their choice to join and fight,” Nasir hissed. “Don’t dare take that away from them. And you know, deep in your heart, that it had to be done this way. You would never have left his side willingly. We need you here, Agron, and we need you trusting your instincts.”

“Yes, my instincts and their illustrious record.”

Nasir held Agron’s face in his hands. “Of all those who went to the mines, only four of us survived, only three of those who left from the camp. Every last person who followed you survived for another two days at that time. You led a hunt at early dawn when we were low on food and remained undetected. You made plans to stake out and successfully overtake a slave ship in Neapolis. Not even three months ago you completely routed a Roman legion. So, yes, we need your instincts.”

Agron sighed, not yet ready to admit Nasir was correct.

“Fine,” Nasir said as he sat back. “If you won’t sleep, I shall not either.”

“You must rest. We need you at prime strength to help with the rudder and sails.”

Nasir shook his head. “What’s the point if we’re all to die as treacherous fucks? Is that not your feeling on the matter?”

“You know it is not,” Agron hissed.

Nasir held his hand out. “Then rest with me. Or for me. Or because of me. Just rest, Agron. The morning may bring brighter things.”

“It will not wash away the shame,” Agron said as he took Nasir’s hand and sat up.

Nasir laid back and carefully arranged Agron on top of him, ever mindful of his shoulder. “It will not,” he agreed. “Yet it will give us new purpose.”

Agron had no argument against such faith. 

****************************

The brightness of the sun and the cool breeze appeared to mock them the next day. Each member of their crew was lost in contemplation; even Arieh’s cries were lessened. 

“I do not wish to interrupt your mourning, but we must plot a full course beyond Alexandria,” Kyros said. “I must know how to ration our supplies or what ports we should head to if this is to be a long or short journey.”

“Where are we to go? Where will we live?” Camilla asked. “We cannot return to Italia. Rome already owns half this world.”

No one had an answer.

“Our initial plans were for Gallia and Germania,” Sigihild said.

“Which would require too much time in Roman-infested seas and lands,” Donar said. He slapped Nasir’s back. “We may have to see your homeland first.”

“Or somewhere near it,” Kyros agreed. “We should stay the course to Egypt now. They are yet to be occupied by Rome. There may be employment there. A new start for you and the children.”

“Must we make this choice now?” Naevia asked as she stared at the fading sight of Sicily’s southwestern coast.

“It never would’ve succeeded you know, your plan,” Kyros said.

“Is that so,” Agron muttered.

“Do none of you know the pirates’ most coveted commodity? The one item which guarantees they will always see coin from port to port? No? I should’ve assumed, seeing how all of you are either born-slaves or from foreign lands. Slaves, that is a pirate’s guaranteed import and export. Do you really think they would have done anything to damage such a profit?”

“Why help us? Will you sell us at the nearest market?” Agron asked. He waved off Nasir who was trying to stifle his words. “What could _possibly_ be in this for you?”

Kyros spread his arms wide and gestured at the ship. “In case it failed your notice, this is a small merchant vessel. It is not as fast as the pirate ships of the Cilicians or as colorful. It’s not meant for use in the slave trade. It is a pittance of a pirate’s fleet often reserved for those with plague and left to die. I am their loose end who was destined for Charon and the Underworld. I decided for a more lively adventure instead.”

Lydon was the first to laugh, quickly followed by Donar, then all of them. Even Agron couldn’t help the twitching of his lips and the small chuckle that escaped. 

“So, Alexandria for good as planned,” Lydon said. “Perhaps we shall all become priests.”

“The temple would crash on Agron’s head the moment he set foot over the threshold,” Sigihild teased. “There are only so many times you can order the gods to be fucked before they answer.”

“Ah, but then we’d know they were listening,” Nasir said. He stood next to Agron and placed an arm around his hips. “Do you not wish to return to Germania?” he asked in a whisper.

Agron gripped his injured shoulder. The skin was taking a long time to mend after the most-recent ripping of his stitches. Circumstances kept reopening the wound and Camilla and Nasir kept trying to heal it. 

“I fear there is no home to return to, not one I would recognize,” he said.

“We will go to Carthage first, then Egypt,” Naevia said. It was not a suggestion.

“There is nothing to see there but the remains of its old port,” Kyros said. “The Carthage of legend no longer stands. Rome left it in utter devastation.”

“I do not go for legends,” Naevia hissed before she turned away to walk to the other end of the ship. 

Agron exchanged a look with Donar and Lydon. “Do you know what she’s on about?”

“Barca,” Donar said.

“And Pietros,” Lydon added.


	2. Chapter 2

** Part II: He Struck with his O'ertaking Wings, And Chased Us South Along **

_Open Sea_

 

Agron despised not having a plan. He never intended to become the head of the rebels. He was content to follow Spartacus’ orders and to help lessen the burden of his leadership. Of the four former gladiators-turned-generals, he was the youngest, and far from a champion of the arena. The others were older, wiser, and more experienced with the wide world. They had more time in and among the Romans before the rebellion than Agron had now after the past two years. He knew little of the world here. Naevia should be leading them, or Nasir, not Agron, not now. A week at sea and he was still unsettled with the decision. 

“Just because your shoulder requires mending does not mean you are incapable of forming strategy,” Nasir said. It was a phrase he had repeated often over the past week.

Nasir was growing frustrated with Agron; he wondered if this would be the end of them after all they’d seen. It wasn’t Agron’s jealousy and suspicion that would end them this time but a wholly different weakness instead. Nasir was finally stepping out of Agron’s shadow and while he felt pride, he also feared being left behind. Nasir could do better, _would_ do better with the opportunities presented now. He already spent more time with Kyros than Agron would prefer. He did not wish to relive those old arguments; Nasir had all rights to his own companionship and if he sought a calmer, stable man who could sleep through the night, Agron would have to live with it. 

He turned from the sea and surveyed the ship. They had coin with them and with that brought certain freedoms and choices. It wasn’t a vast fortune but one comfortable enough; their earned profit from all their raids kept safe under Nasir’s watchful eyes. Some wealth was worn on their bodies as well, from Nasir’s armbands to small jewels woven into Camilla’s hair, to the chains around Donar’s neck. They had enough to purchase shelter and food for a time. They would have to pay Kyros of course, and fees for any port where they docked. They’d need to find a decent way, a quiet way, to make coin. They’d need to get more food and warmer clothes if the breezes stayed this brisk. Late-spring did not feel as warm as it should out here on the sea.

Agron pinched his brow. He knew nothing of sailing. None of them did, save Kyros. What the fuck were they even trying to do here?

He motioned Kyros over. “How do you suggest we manage to successfully live this farce? Will it not cause questions, so many different people traveling on a merchant vessel?”

“Hardly,” Kyros scoffed. He straightened his back and gestured at everyone. “Romans avoid these seas outside of leisure trips and the occasional raid. It is not an uncommon tale for a Syrian who has established himself, become a wealthy enough merchant, to send his son back to see where the family started. Of the lot of you, Nasir, Camilla, and Naevia speak Latin like the merchant class, Nasir and Camilla especially so. Lydon’s accent is barely traceable, but present. It would be an easy farce to claim, if any questions are asked. Nasir, a newly rich merchant’s son traveling the wonders of the world with his wife, Camilla, and their young daughter, Thais. Naevia is the child’s minder, married to the body slave Lydon, with Seti and Arieh passing as their children. You three Germans are clearly the barbarian horde they use for protection.”

“And what of you?” Donar asked.

Kyros laughed and the dark lines around his eyes crinkled. “Me, well, I am the lowly sea-farer who designs the course and helps you stay on the path.” 

Donar rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“Never doubt a sailor,” Kyros said. He patted Agron’s face. “Let us continue our course, shall we? More time wasted in these waters is more time to tempt the wrath of the sea.”

“A foul thing, is it?” Nasir asked.

“A cruel mistress,” Kyros said. 

Agron flinched when Nasir pressed his cold, wet hands against his stomach.

“If I am to have my head about me, being a good a leader as you claim I am, I cannot worry about you falling overboard,” Agron chastised.

Nasir laughed. “It’s not my fault the waves come up enough to touch my fingers. Blame that on your shoddy helmsmen.”

Agron hid his smile in Nasir’s hair as Lydon, Camilla, and Donar argued about the correct time and pace to use the rudder oar.

Nasir dried his hands on Agron’s vest. “I like this, being out on the sea. It’s so different from my villa, yet it feels familiar somehow.”

Agron wondered then if Nasir was remembering his childhood. Syria was on the coast, was it not? He’d heard Ashur boast about the ships and sights he’d seen. Agron rested his chin on Nasir’s head and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath of the sea air. They had bigger concerns now than ghosts of the past. There would be time for such discussions later. 

******************************

_Carthage_

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/naevia-asilentcry_zpsb8faf3ef.png.html)

Naevia silently wept as they approached Carthage. It was the first time Agron saw her shed tears of mourning in a year. Even following Crixus’ death, she was angry first, then numb. The wound was still festering and far too open then for tears. He did not know what moved her to it now, what Carthage held for her and her memories.

Agron was the only one not resting or pulling ropes so he approached her, hidden behind the mast. “Are you from here?” he asked.

“No, Barca was.” She smiled. “The Beast of Carthage. I knew him since I was but a girl. He was in the ludus longer than Crixus. Crixus’ first kill was Barca’s lover, Auctus. His next lover, Pietros, was dear to me. A brother of my heart though we only knew each other in passing. I can never hear the name Carthage without thinking of them, of the cost they paid for the ambition of that fucking house. How many of our lives one family could ruin. And Ashur, fucking Ashur, every scheme he made and plan he sought. Yet here we stand. Survivors of that house and still living.”

She pulled a leather and metal necklace from under her shirt.

“Mira saved this before Lucretia could burn and tear my few possessions. I doubt she understood or knew the significance of it. She said she saw me hold it at night and thought it to be Crixus’. It belonged to Pietros. The first love token Barca ever bought for him; I remember when Barca found it in the market. I spoke more often to Barca, yet I felt closer to Pietros after their deaths. Neither were close friends of mine, we were separated—me at that bitch’s side and Pietros in the ludus. Pietros reminded me of an old friend though; a dear heart whose loss I feel each day.” She wrapped the leather binds around her fingers. “I have to see Carthage for Barca and Pietros, but even more, I must see it for Diona.”

“It seems I missed many people and tales of note before my time,” Agron said.

Naevia’s laugh was soft and low. “I spent my whole life there, until I was cast out. I grew up dreaming that one day I would have the honor of being my domina’s handmaiden. Nothing more than that. I was never to have children at my own desire or convenience. I wasn’t to love. I wasn’t to do anything but agree. That was to be my life and I was to enjoy it. What did you grow up dreaming about?”

“My own farm. My place among the chieftains. I never thought slavery a possibility,” Agron admitted. 

“Do you understand now why most of us here, born in slavery and servitude, why we cannot turn back for an ideal’s sake? You have always known freedom. You knew what it felt like to _lack_ it. You knew _choice_. Would you deny us that?”

“No,” Agron said.

She grasped his arm. “Then stop acting as if our course now is a betrayal. It is survival, Agron.” 

Camilla approached with a wriggling Arieh in her arms. He reached out for his mother, laughing as the wind stirred her long hair. 

Agron couldn’t help but think that Spartacus would decree this a fair exchange, all the costs, all the death, to see Naevia’s child raised in freedom. Seeing Arieh, knowing he would be raised with choice in all matters, it helped. It was not a decision that would settle for Agron easily, the abandonment of their fellow rebels, but there were costs to be paid and even larger ones with which to live. 

“We approach the ruins,” Kyros called. 

Agron strained his eyes to see anything on the horizon. It looked flat, with no signs of life. Even the birds were absent. 

Kyros’ directions safely guided them past a small run-down port. This was nothing like Neapolis, where business occurred all hours of the day and night. Even the dock looked half-finished. 

“Where is everyone?” Nasir asked. “This is Carthage.”

“ _This_ is the scarred remains of a once great empire that Rome left in complete devastation,” Kyros said.

Donar snorted as he looked out at the crumbled columns of stone. “You must admit, few people hold grudges and seek their revenge like the Romans.”

“Donar,” Lydon and Nasir hissed at the same time.

“What? We are all intelligent enough here not to lie about the obvious. Glaber was an immature fool full of arrogance. Crassus showed us how the true Roman warriors fight. They did the same to our faction under Gannicus. I wish for their deaths but few are capable of showing power like this.” He gestured to the empty paths overgrown with vegetation. 

“I have seen enough,” Naevia said. She shifted Arieh in her arms and placed the necklace in her hands around his neck. It fell just below the one Crixus wore until his death. “Where will we go next?”

“Hadrumentum; it would be good to replenish supplies there before attempting the long sail to Alexandria. Hadrumentum has long been aligned with Rome, but they are used to travelers from all lands. It is an ancient port,” Kyros said.

“Will they not be on the watch for possible escapees or deserters from the army?” Agron asked.

“We cannot put our full plan into motion, not until we’ve purchased the proper clothing for Nasir, Camilla, and Thais. As far as any in Hadrumentum would know, you are a group of freed men and women, seeking transport on a merchant vessel. I’ll claim Lydon and Donar as part of my crew,” Kyros said.

“Oh, thank you,” Agron muttered.

“Your accent is atrocious,” Kyros said.

All those raised with the Lain tongue avoided looking at him as he stared them down.

“Nasir?” he asked.

Nasir kissed Agron’s cheek. “You must know by now what your voice does to me.” He grinned. “I am just glad you have not taken to reciting Latin poetry.”

“Traitor,” Agron muttered into Nasir’s ear. He glared at Kyros. “What if we get stopped by guards?”

Kyros shook his head. “Is he always like this?” he asked Nasir.

Nasir wrapped his arms around Agron’s waist. “He’s been cursed by the gods of luck. Or blessed, depending on how you view it.”

Kyros rolled his eyes. “Just don’t get yourselves in trouble. Or kidnapped. I wouldn’t worry about most of you but the sex-slavers might try to nab Seti, Thais, or Nasir. Avoid any gambling dens and whorehouses if you can resist the temptation.”

“Well, Donar, can you?” Camilla asked.

Donar frowned. “It’s a sacrifice I am willing to make for the better of us all.”

*************************

That night they all learned of the sea’s wrath. The ship rocked in the harsh waves as winds and rains poured on top of them. Naevia was struggling to keep the ropes on the sails in place. Agron ignored the throbbing in his arm as he helped pull them back. He bit down on his lip as he felt the wound tear open again and get doused with the salty water from the sea. 

“It makes you miss the mountain top,” Naevia yelled over the wind.

“Try not to behead any of us,” Agron shouted back.

Naevia eyes went wide and she laughed. He was barely able to dodge her foot as she tried to knock him down. 

He was learning to treasure these brief moments of joy. It almost felt normal, as if they weren’t all suffering through the trials of loss, mourning, and complete uncertainty about their future. 

The winds started to die down as the storm passed. Agron looked around the deck. All still alive, if drenched. Nervous laughter started from Lydon and traveled to them all. Seti and Thais emerged from the hold with Arieh secure between them.

“Alright then?” Agron asked.

Thais nodded. “Arieh got sick. He’s better now.”

“He’s not the only one,” Lydon said as he clutched his stomach. “Those waves would do anyone’s guts in. I don’t want to think about food for the next month.”

“Amateurs,” Kyros said. He nodded with approval though as he took in the state of the ship. “We’re not sinking and everyone’s alive. I’ll say we won this one. Congratulations on passing your first storm on the sea. It’s a bit of thing to be out here in the middle of it all. No dodging for cover and nowhere is safe or secure.”

“I doubt any are eager for a repeat,” Nasir said. He handed over his spot on the steering oars to Sigihild. “Agron, let’s see to that shoulder.”

“It’s fine,” he said. Naevia slapped him right over the opened wound and he stumbled in pain. “Fuck, Naevia, why?”

She pursed her lips in annoyance. “I would rather us not have to amputate your arm when the inevitable infection sets in. Though, if the gods are kind, it will go to your brain and perhaps rectify all the problems there.”

“Come,” Nasir ordered, “under the canvas with you.”

Somehow it was still dry in the tents; a true testament to Kyros’ skill. Agron was still suspicious of him as a man, but he respected him as a sailor. Agron sat, nearly hunched over in half, and waited for his examination. Camilla joined them, carefully holding a hand over the flame of an oil lamp to keep it from the linens. 

Nasir made a sound as he probed the wound in the low-light. 

“It’s torn open again, not completely this time. That’s something to see the old stitches holding.”

Agron tried not to make a comment about just how many times his shoulder had seen stitches. Even before they reached Regium, his wound had been re-sewn four times. He had little faith in the wound ever healing properly. 

He hissed when Camilla pressed down on it. “It doesn’t smell infected yet. It must’ve been healing before this tear. You need a proper surgeon, Agron.”

All the surgeon’s Agron had seen were more like butchers. “I’ve seen Rome’s idea of a medicus, I’d rather suffer.” 

Nasir pressed down on Agron’s shoulder. “Ow, fuck, what the fucking fuck, Nasir,” he yelled.

“I will not see you die from such a fucking wound after surviving this far. We will make port, you will see whatever medicus we can find, and you will do it with a smile on that face or so help me Agron there will be consequences you cannot imagine.”

Agron followed his own advice from old and kept his fucking mouth shut. He’d seen what an enraged Nasir could do with a sharp weapon on a battlefield. Agron had little desire to experience evisceration. 

********************************

_Hadrumentum_

After two days of sailing on calmer waters and close to a month at sea, they arrived in Hadrumentum. Here was a bustling port, much livelier than Neapolis. The influence of Rome was obvious in terms of the fashion and the new building facades. It was clear though that this was an ancient city, with roots far beyond the reach of Rome. The old buildings still stood, not in ruins, but used as homes. Agron thought he recognized some Latin in their speech, though it sounded wholly different. 

They passed stalls selling everything from fish to dates to goats. Kyros guided the way. He kept them far from the city quarter where Agron could hear them calling out bids for slaves. The tongue may have sounded different but the intent remained the same. Nasir gripped Agron’s good shoulder as they passed, as if he knew just where Agron’s thoughts strayed. 

They turned corner after corner until they were led to where the streets went narrower, the buildings less bright. This was not the bustling place of commerce to entice the tourists. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Camilla asked. 

“A woman I know. She is more skilled in healing than any of us,” Kyros said. “She will help us for a price, not as steep as a true surgeon, so it’s still a fair deal.”

“Until my arm rots off,” Agron muttered. His whole side throbbed. Donar and Lydon had to help him maneuver down the ropes of the ship to the dock. It was an experience he had no desire to repeat soon. Donar had already made nose about hoisting Agron up with a winch to get back on the ship.

They stopped at a doorway with flowers and vines covering the lentils. It was a spot of bright color amidst all the beige and white of the stone. 

“I leave you here,” Kyros said. “’I’ll look to secure us a cargo trade to earn coin.”

“And how do we find our way back?” Donar asked. 

Kyros slowly blinked and then pointed to the coast. “If you fail to recall the simple path we just took I suggest you keep heading towards the ocean.”

“The traveler returns,” a deep voice called from the doorway. Out of the shadows emerged a woman who stood even taller than Agron. “Kyros, what have you brought me?”

Kyros almost seemed to blush under the tattooed lines on his face. “Tanith, you look lovely as always,” he said.

It wasn’t false sentiment. Agron could appreciate beauty in all human forms. Tanith was striking with dark skin and wide lips turned up in a smirk. Her eyes passed over all of them as if she could see into their very souls. 

“Still working with the rough trade I see,” she said. She held out a hand, long fingers beckoning them forward. “Come inside before the thugs see you and demand payment.”

“I must seek a cargo,” Kyros said.

“Come inside,” Tanith repeated.

Even Agron could see that wasn’t a request.

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/Tanithhearts_zpsae09bfb9.png.html)

Beyond the door was a room full of intricate murals and ornate carvings in the stone. Water bubbled in pots on burning wood stoves, filling the room with the distinct smell of fire. It made Agron shudder as it reminded him of too many battlefields and funeral pyres. They’d lost Gannicus to a fire; Nemetes as well.

“You,” she said as she pointed to Agron, “sit here in the light where I can see you.”

“I’d rather stand,” Agron said.

“Sit down so I can see your wound. It’s why Kyros brought you here.”

Nasir shoved him forward and Agron almost stumbled over a bushel of herbs.

“Are you a witch?” Lydon blurted out. 

“No, though many of my guests seem to believe so,” Tanith said in an amused tone. “I am a Nubian.”

“Yet you speak Latin,” Agron said.

Tanith moved around her space pulling out poultices and heating small metal tools over the flames. “It’s rare to find those who don’t in ports overrun with Romans. I must make my coin like all. I do not know any of you well enough to share my personal tales, save Kyros who surely remembers them. Now, surly one, sit. You can stand if you insist but you will only be causing yourself more pain in the end.”

“Agron,” Nasir said. It wasn’t a plea, just a suggestion.

He remained standing.

“Have it your way then,” Tanith said. She tugged on Agron’s coat. “I suggest if you don’t want this stained with even more water, blood, and medicine that you remove it.”

Agron clenched his jaw and carefully removed the coat, shaking it off his good arm before gingerly pulling it from the bad. The cloth covering his brand slipped down and Nasir hastily retied it. If Tanith saw, she said nothing. Agron wondered if their freedom would be her required payment. 

He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. The bandages would have to be removed next. He knew they were stuck to his skin and he didn’t welcome the pain that would come. He felt familiar hands cup his face and he opened his eyes.

“Hello,” Nasir said.

“Greetings,” Agron replied.

“If the gods are kind this will be the last time you find yourself in such a position,” Nasir said. 

Agron flinched when Tanith poured warm water over the bandages.

“We both know this will happen again,” Agron said. He cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing back there, Nubian?”

“I have a name,” Tanith said. “I am showing you a small bit of mercy by wetting the bandages first. It may help dislodge them.”

“Just rip them off,” Agron said. “I would not waste time on small mercies.”

“Is he always like this?” Tanith asked.

Nasir grinned. He looked at Agron as he spoke to her, “Oh, he is always like this, but he is mine.”

Agron’s breath hissed through his teeth as Tanith pulled the bandages off. The sound and feel made his stomach turn. The only thing keeping him grounded was the feel of Nasir tugging him down to let Agron rest his forehead against Nasir’s own. More water was poured over his wound and Agron puffed out a breath in an effort to keep from shouting. 

“This wound has been re-opened many times,” Tanith said. “And re-sewn just as often by both expert and unskilled hands.”

“By necessity,” Agron said.

“It could be damaged for life,” she said. 

Agron had feared as much. Axe wounds weren’t the cleanest of injuries. Fucking opportunistic Roman fucks. 

“Nothing to be done about it. Can you heal it?” Nasir asked. 

“I can make attempt. He will always feel a stiffness, I fear.”

“As long as I can use the arm, it matters not,” Agron said.

The silence of all spoke their doubts. Agron would not think on it now. He’d not survived all the shit and losses thrown at him over the past four years to give into despair now; though his knees were starting to buckle. 

“I think I shall sit now,” he said.

“A wise decision,” Tanith agreed.

Agron watched as she gathered more supplies. Her hair was worn in long braids and decorated with small golden hoops. She moved deliberately and with grace; a subtle act to her movements that he’d seen in both Naevia and Nasir. He knew then, Nubian or not, Tanith had not lived her life as just a healer. 

Nasir sat beside him and held Agron’s hands. “You are allowed to yell,” he said.

“And ruin my reputation? That’s all I have now,” Agron said. 

“He tells jokes at a time like this,” Kyros said.

“That is how our Agron survives,” Donar said. “Well, that and beating his enemies’ faces into pulp.”

“Thank you, Donar, for that lovely image,” Lydon said. “Kyros, I have seen enough wound care in my time. You say that you must seek a cargo? I would go with you.”

“How easily they abandon us,” Camilla said. “Weaklings.”

“We will let you know if he dies,” Donar said. “Go, off with you two. Secure us clothing and coin.”

Agron paid them little attention. He was too preoccupied focusing on Nasir’s hands. They were soft when they first met. Blisters and calluses were just starting to form the first time Agron felt them touch his own skin. Now they were the hands of a tried warrior who trained others. 

Tanith sat down again balancing a bowl and a tray of implements. “I am going to staple the wound at the ends with these thorns. Then I’ll sew it up and hopefully it will stay this time.”

Agron didn’t like the look of the thorns. Still, if this is what it took to finally see this wound healed for good, he’d take it. 

“This will hurt,” Tanith said. 

“I expect nothing less,” Agron said.

He tightened his grip on Nasir’s hands when the boiling water trickled over his wound again. Before he even had time to brace himself, there was sharp pinching on his back, first at one end of the wound then the other. He kept a steady lock on Nasir’s eyes as he stayed still. Nasir looked worried though he didn’t speak or break Agron’s gaze. It was a gift to still be able and allowed to draw such silent strength from the man before him. 

“Take a deep breath. I am about to start stitching,” Tanith advised.

Agron followed her directions and tried not to gag at the sickly feel of the pull and tug of his skin. He hardly noticed the usual throb with Tanith’s work. He could barely feel anything by the time she was done though something smelled off.

“Is that honey?” he asked.

“It will help with the infection,” Tanith said.

Nasir started laughing at Agron’s face. “It’s honey, Agron, not poison.”

“I thought you’d be used to feeling sticky by now,” Donar said.

“Camilla,” Agron requested. He smiled when she immediately slapped Donar. “Gratitude.”

“Welcome. Are we almost done?” she asked.

“Let me wrap this,” Tanith said. “We shall discuss payment after.”

He had to let go of Nasir’s hands as Tanith wound the bandage around him, over his shoulder, under his arm, and around his abdomen. She repeated the action many times until it was pulled tight and Agron’s arm held in a stable position. 

“I can barely move my arm,” Agron said.

“That would be the point,” Tanith said. She stood and gave him an approving nod. “You take to the seas now?”

“If I can even climb back on the ship with this,” Agron said. 

“You should get a coat with actual sleeves. Keep that bandage dry.” She sat on the edge of her table. “I would discuss payment now.”

Donar reached to his belt and pulled out a large pouch of coins. “I assume that is enough.”

Tanith shook her head. “That is not the sort of payment I seek.” She looked them over. “You,” she pointed to Nasir, “you have the sick of a babe on your shirt. You travel with children, yes?”

“We do,” Camilla agreed. “They are in good health.”

“For now. You should have a healer,” Tanith said. “With the babes at sea, you need one who knows how to cure fever.”

“Why leave this place?” Agron asked. It was obviously well-loved and lived-in.

“It is not my home,” Tanith said. “I was a slave once, like all of you.” She laughed at their shock faces. “You could do with covering up those arms better. Some of us are paid to see beyond the obvious. I know how difficult it is to live in freedom without direction. I was still quite young when my wealthy dominus decided to see the wonders of Egypt and died in the process. I have been stranded here for the past three years, making only enough coin to keep the thugs from forcing my legs open. You need a healer,” she repeated, “and I gladly volunteer my services.”

“It is another mouth to feed on an already heavy ship,” Agron said even as Nasir pressed a hand to his back. He knew what that gesture meant. Now was not the time to give in, not yet.

“And unlike the rest of you I bear neither mark nor brand upon my skin. I also speak more than just Latin and that guttural language you curse in. You will need the languages I know. It will look suspicious if the only one among you able to easily converse like an adult on a trip East obviously came from a life of piracy.”

“She speaks truth,” Camilla said. “It is sound advice. As it stands, Seti speaks greater Aramaic than Nasir.”

“We do have need of a healer and another able body,” Nasir said as he pressed his hands even harder into the small of Agron’s back. 

Agron knew the argument was lost. He exchanged a look with Nasir, then Donar and Camilla. All held a steady gaze of agreement. He turned to Tanith who looked far too amused. 

“We leave under the cover of darkness tonight. If you are not at the docks, we will not wait. If you betray us, vengeance will be brutal and swift.”

“I would like to see what blow you could deliver with such an arm,” Tanith said. “I understand your concern. I have no need to betray you.”

“We have heard such from former friends before,” Donar said.

“I am not your friend,” Tanith said. “Consider me a fellow traveler first, a colleague at most. We will see if a friendship can bloom under such clouding suspicion.”

Agron chose to ignore the amused laugh Nasir tried to conceal. 

***********************

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/alazyafternoon_zpsa17e6dbd.png.html)

The trip to Alexandria was to take two months on its own. Kyros had secured them stops and trade in small ports along the way, but it meant little to Agron would could do nothing other than rest and heal. He wasn’t even well enough to watch Arieh on his own. The little cub liked to crawl into the tiniest hidden spaces and Agron wasn’t capable of crawling in behind him. Being bested by a babe made him feel far from the leader Nasir claimed him.

Sigihild and Nasir were left to watch them both as the others took to port. Agron and Arieh had their own routine. They woke up each morning and suffered inspection at the hands of women; Naevia for Arieh and Tanith for Agron. Then they shared a bit of bread and whatever water or fruit was around. Agron would hold Arieh on his good side and let him reach up to touch the sails and the ropes until both their bodies grew tired. A nap near the rudder oars (best for a warm breeze) usually followed. Occasionally they’d interact with whatever person was left to mind the both of them. Agron was quite proud to see Arieh already learning to glare off the interlopers. 

“Your father would have such words if he saw us together,” Agron confessed that morning as they ate with Sigihild and Nasir.

“Ag ag grr,” Arieh informed him. 

Agron nodded and placed Arieh in the space between the three adults. 

“You handle him well,” Sigihild said.

Agron shrugged. “We understand each other’s woes. He wails over his new teeth, while I wail just as much for my arm. I suppose bonding with the babe is the one thing I can contribute.”

Sigihild laughed. “Yes, because our progress is hindered by your bulk.”

“I am too much dead weight. Perhaps the gods will be kind and push me into the sea with the next storm,” he told Sigihild.

She laughed again at his words even as Nasir dropped his bread and pulled Agron up by his good arm.

“Watch the cub,” Nasir informed Sigihild. 

There was no request, just demand, and Agron was surprised to hear Nasir speak to her so. He frowned at him. “Nasir, Sigihild does not deserve your sudden ire.”

“Close fucking mouth,” Nasir ordered. He pushed Agron with surprising force towards the tent.

“It was only jest, Nasir,” he said in a lowered voice as they passed the main sail. 

Nasir glared up at him and pulled Agron down to his level with a harsh jerk. “Jest? Fucking Jest? I almost thought you dead, you stupid fuck,” he hissed. “Do you have _any_ notion what it felt like to see you fall in battle? To watch in horror as a fucking Roman shit moved to behead you? To know that I was too far away to save you? That when I found you, you were spitting blood and I thought you near death, only to find you cursing over a bit tongue? There was a fucking axe embedded in your shoulder, Agron. I have tried to hold tongue, I have tried to be patient through each complaint, round of broken stitches, and lamentation against the man you _think_ you should be. I had a moment, one that felt like eternity itself, thinking you forever taken from my arms. Do not jest of this with me, Agron. Never belittle the value of your life in mine.”

He released Agron and took a step back. Agron watched in fascination as Nasir gathered himself. The anger slid back behind the mask Nasir had adopted since Agron first found himself injured. It was one that bore shadows of an older, more mature Nasir, with shades of how he must’ve coped as a slave. Agron hated the mask, hated the fact the it muted what he saw as Nasir’s true emotions. He’d come to realize, since they took to the seas, it was Nasir’s own way of surviving all the change while keeping his sense about him.

Nasir held Agron’s hands in his own. His fingers brushed over Agron’s knuckles as he studied the skin. “We each have different sorts of strength within us, Agron. You must remember you are more than just a brute. We do not need you to protect us, we need you to lead us. I have never known you without anger and grief in your heart, but there are days on this ship when I wonder if you even still have love in your heart for any of us save Arieh.”

“Nasir,” Agron breathed. He wrapped his good arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “I may continue to doubt who I am now in this new world and life, but I will _never_ cease from loving you with all that is in me. I apologize for a poorly worded jest. I have not truly considered what these past months have meant to you. If our situations were reversed, as they have been, my temper would not be so calm.”

“I did threaten to push Lydon off the dock at Cyrene when he made complaint about the honey smell,” Nasir admitted.

Agron grimaced. “Apologies you must sleep near it. Perhaps I should—”

“—not finish whatever foolish words are about to spill from your tongue,” Nasir interrupted. “It does not bother me. Your body is healing itself; the heart is another matter.”

“Know that I love you.”

“I do,” Nasir said as he pulled back. “I only wish you would believe how much I love you. How much we all admire you. The Fates have not been kind to us, they have taken much, but _we_ still breathe.” He rested his forehead on Agron’s chest. “We will find our way home, however long the journey will be. If the Fates allow it, we shall find the others left behind; if not, we shall live on in their memory. We shall do all this together.”

“I will not disobey such a command,” Agron promised.

Nasir smiled. “Some reason has returned then.” He straightened up and cupped Agron’s face. “You look weary.”

Agron frowned. “I feel quite well.”

Nasir grinned and tugged Agron’s forehead down. “No, I can see it clearly now.” A clever hand trailed down Agron’s body and rested right above his breeches. “You look _very_ weary.”

He grinned and looked to the sky. “I suppose I could take an earlier nap this day.” He ran his thumb down the side of Nasir’s face. “Apologies, Nasir, for all I must put you through.”

Nasir gripped his hand. “I have done much the same to you. We are not perfect men, Agron. I know my own faults.”

Agron shook his head. “They do not exist.”

Nasir rolled his eyes and gripped the back of Agron’s neck. “You are blinded to them.”

“As you are well aware of mine,” Agron said.

“As they world is,” Nasir agreed. He stretched up and nipped at Agron’s bottom lip. “I love you because of them. Even when they leave me awed at your lack of better judgment, you are my Agron and I would have no other.”

Agron knew it was not the sudden breeze full of saltwater than made his cheeks suddenly wet, but Nasir said nothing, either in concern or mocking. He merely guided them to their tent and took to reaffirming that they still lived, breathed, and loved together. 

***********************

They were to keep to the East, far past Egypt. It was never part of any plan or escape route proposed before they took to the seas. South and west, then east if they could. None, save Nasir and Kyros, came from that part of the world. The Romans had a presence there, it seemed to be tempting fate, but Kyros insisted it was best to go east by sea then west by land. 

Agron still questioned the wisdom of trusting a stranger, a Syrian no less. He couldn’t deny that Kyros had many chances to sell them out and never bothered to take them. He could’ve easily killed them all while they slept or purposefully crashed and sunk the boat and escaped. Agron didn’t trust it, the devotion to people Kyros never met and a cause he had no reason to defend. The past year had seen him fighting beside people from all over the world eager to stand against Rome or just to join a life of raiding and its rewards. In the end, most had betrayed them, only Castus, Marina, and Kore loyal among all the new folk who crossed their paths. Agron could not find it within himself to so eagerly accept Kyros. 

Nasir had ordered him to leave it alone and under normal circumstances, Agron would obey that command. He just couldn’t, not now, not when their lives were at the whims and mercy of a stranger with another one on board. Not when Agron was as useful as the babe when it came to their defense. Not when Arieh was still so small and so much the legacy of all who had fallen. 

The sea-air and waves had a unique effect on Nasir, always sending him off into a deep sleep. Agron left him there, a fond smile on his lips, and went in search of Kyros.

Donar, Lydon, and Sigihild were manning the rudder and watching the sails. Their pace was steady as they worked, going off to the rhythm of a song Lydon hummed. Kyros watched over them, hidden in the shadows of the hull. 

“I would desire words,” Agron said as he approached him.

“Then speak,” Kyros said. “I fear no ears that should overhear our conversation.”

Agron looked to Sigihild, Donar, and Lydon. They kept to their work and song. 

“You told us that the pirates turned against us to keep up their slave trade. Why help us? What does our survival bring you? Why do you care so much?” Agron asked.

Kyros turned from the sea and looked at him. It wasn’t with kindness in his eyes. “Why does it matter to you? Can you not just freely accept aid when it is offered?” 

There was irritation in his tone, the first crack in his calm demeanor Agron had seen. It was hard not to pounce on that weakness. Agron refrained since he needed truth now, not the harsh words spoken in anger. 

“Everything has its price,” Agron said.

Kyros shook his head. “You want to know why I care so much about whether you live or die. If you shall forever remain free of Rome’s grasp?”

“I do.”

Kyros gave a dark laugh. “Are you certain, Agron? You might not like the change the truth will bring to your world.”

“Tell me, Kyros,” he demanded. 

Kyros stared at Agron as if he couldn’t believe the audacity. There was an agitation in his stance and he began to pace as he spoke in a calm but measured voice. “Do you honestly think I was born on the sea? A child of the salt, wind, and waves? I too was forced into slavery. When I was a decade at most, my village fell in one of the many power disputes in Syria. I already knew languages then from the time at our market stall. Akkadian, Aramaic, Latin, Hebrew and others, I could speak the basics as such was the requirement in our city. My brother and I were both children when we were taken. Every port I went to, every time I saw a child sold to some uncertain end, I relived that loss. We all seek our own types of redemption, Agron. This is mine.”

He paused in his pacing and stared Agron down. “Perhaps you’d like the details though. Yes, you’d take nothing less. My brother and I were captured and then traded to a group of pirates for grain. I was considered an asset to them. I had already begun to learn my letters and knew enough Latin and Greek to navigate conversations. I was ten. My brother was four. They had no use for a child, not one who went to tears whenever the waves grew too harsh. So they forced us apart. They sold him with a group of other slaves in Neapolis. I was there, forced to keep still and silent with the pirates who had held us captive, as he was sold to some fucking Roman farmer like he was cattle. We came from a family of wealth, of influence, and he was sold off as a slave and I was forced into a life of piracy. Ever since he was sold I’d return to the realms of Rome’s influence at least once a year to learn of his master, to hope and hear of him. Imagine my fear when it was revealed Spartacus and his rebels had invaded his villa. I thought him dead and me, failing to purchase his freedom and save his life, never to see him again.”

Agron felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. He knew the name of the brother and yet refused to speak it.

Kyros nodded. “Hard to believe, yes? He looks so dignified and I—I look just like the villain my pirate captors always wanted.” He looked towards the tent where Nasir slept. “He was always the braver of us. Never feared strangers, not even as a child.”

“Your brother, what was his name?”

Kyros smiled. “Nasir,” he said. 

Agron’s jaw clenched at the implication of that one word, that one name. “Is he?”

“I cannot say. Over a decade and far too many faces that carried a trace of one I once recalled. Nasir is not a unique name.”

Agron knew it was a lie. He could look at Kyros’ smile and see traces of Nasir there. “And what does your instinct tell you?”

“That it is too long for the truth to be known. I suppose we all try to make amends.”

Agron would be a liar if he tried to deny those words. It still didn’t feel like enough, to trust Kyros even with the new insight to his reasons, but it was a start.

“So you see, Agron, you and I have a very similar goal. We both want to see Nasir free and far from Rome’s grasp for the rest of his life.”

“This will not make us friends,” Agron said. 

Kyros grinned. “I never expected it to, though perhaps it will help you remove your head from your ass. Of all those gathered here, you are the only one who knows what is to live as an adult outside of slavery, servitude, or poverty. You may worry about your arm or your former failures. You may feel the need to defer to Naevia but you must remember some things. She must make all her decisions now with concern for her child, as any parent should. It might see too much caution when we need daring. She is already burdened with mourning her lover and raising her child. Do not burden her with the leadership of this group as well.”

He approached Agron and patted his good shoulder. “So you, o bumbling oaf, need to recognize what must be done. We will need your leadership and guidance in the time to come. I know Nasir has been pressuring you to take up that position now and you can’t and won’t. Sure, we can collectively make choices here but someone must be willing to be the selfish one. We need you healed for that though, and in proper working order. So for now, we’ll continue with your way as long as you stay on this ship and don’t ruin Tanith’s work. If that arm doesn’t heal now, there will be nothing for it. Later though, after I have taken you all around this world and we make landfall again, I expect you to be the man whose reputation preceded him. The one who did not hesitate to shove a spear point through another man’s eye or set fire to a whole camp to save a group of prisoners.”

Agron refused to show his shock at having a reputation. Spartacus, Gannicus, Crixus, it was expected of them. Not of Agron. He gave Kyros a small nod and returned to his tent. He wasn’t surprised to find Nasir awake. 

“Ever the eavesdropper, I see.” He slid down next to Nasir and ran a hand through the mess of curls around those beloved eyes. “How long have you known?”

“That Kyros was my brother? Since we passed the coast of Sicily. I’ve been remembering things in my dreams ever since we drew near the southern coast. There is a mark on his arm, one our family received when they reached five years. It was done as a gift to the gods for blessing life. Only those in my family bore that inked design. I recalled a memory of a cousin receiving the mark. I remember a voice telling me about it; it’s too deep to be Kyros’. My father, then, maybe. His eyes are those of my brother, even if the tattooed lines around them are new.”

Agron laid back and carefully arranged Nasir over him to not put added pressure on his shoulder. He ran his fingers in a familiar path down Nasir’s back. He couldn’t imagine it, seeing his brother again after so long and not even knowing, with all certainty, that it was really him.

“Does he know you know?”

Nasir shook his head. “I wanted to speak with you first. It hasn’t been the right time. I didn’t want you to think I was abandoning our plans.”

Agron cupped the back of Nasir’s neck. “This is something important though. A joyous occasion. You should not keep it secret from him. He’d like to know, I’m sure.”

Nasir burrowed his head into the space between Agron’s neck and good shoulder. “Later. I do not know how I feel about it myself.” He pressed a quick kiss to Agron’s skin. “We will talk about it in the morning. We must rest now. Please, Agron.”

Agron kissed the top of Nasir’s head. There would be words in the morning. It was hard to imagine that a few statements could change their world so completely. 

He let his eyelids drop and feel into a restful sleep for the first time in months. 

***********************

_Alexandria_

Agron’s shoulder itched so badly it was driving him mad. Tanith claimed it was proof of it finally healing, which Nasir and Camilla said was true. Agron cared not. He’d had to stay on this ship for their last three port docks and he was losing all sense of reason. He’d been confined for a month now and he wanted to walk the streets again. They were approaching Alexandria with dyes and documents to deliver. It was yet another port where Agron was to be confined on the ship, at least for the first day. 

Seti propped himself on Lydon’s shoulders as they prepared to pull into the port at Alexandria. There were two ports, a bridge, and dangerous sandbars Kyros had been warning them about for the past two days. It would take all their skill to approach Alexandria’s merchant port as if they were professionals. Here they could easily tell the old hands from the new sailors. If they stumbled here it could be the end of them. 

Seti was the most excited of them all, uncomprehending of the possible danger. This was the city his birth parents came from. Agron tried to imagine what it was like, seeing your homeland, city of your ancestors, for the first time.

“There is a mountain rising out of the ocean,” Seti said.

Agron laughed at his imagination. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s there, look.” Seti pointed to something in the distance that did, indeed, look like a mountain side coming out of the sea.

Kyros nodded in approval. “The boy has a good eye; it is meant to look like a mountain side. That is the lighthouse of Alexandria. You should be honored. I heard it’s a wonder of the world that all must see.” 

“Clearly not compensating for anything,” Donar muttered. 

“Ah, the German then has never heard of the Colossus. If the winds take us by Rhodes, it might deserve a stop to see the ruins,” Kyros said. 

“Look, goats,” Thais exclaimed as she pointed to a barge of bleating animals.

Agron chuckled, glad to see she could still find joy in simple things. 

“Goats have no place on a ship such as ours,” Kyros said. “We can try to find a dog here. Or a cat willing to sail that could help lessen the rats.”

“Or both,” Naevia said. “We need all the protection and aid possible.” She plopped down a sack of silver objects. “See if we can sell this in port. There must be a place where clandestine deals with little questions are held.”

“Each port city has such an alley,” Kyros said. 

“And Kyros knows them all,” Tanith agreed. 

They’d all benefitted from her experience in the past few trips. She had improved their diets beyond grain and jerky. Both she and Kyros insisted that they eat terrifying amounts of citrus fruit for their health. Agron hated it; it burned his throat each time it went down. 

“I wish you could come with us,” Thais said. “I miss riding on your shoulders.”

Agron kneeled down to her size and tweaked her nose. “This shoulder will be healed soon enough and you’ll stand tallest amongst us all. Though I am sure you can goad Donar in for a go.”

Thais wrinkled her nose. “He doesn’t stop to let me pet the animals. He says they’ll trample us.”

Agron nodded. “That is a serious problem. Well, you should try for Nasir then. Not as tall, but still better than the ground.” He hugged her close and moved back to make sure her hair was in its proper place. 

The clothes seemed a bit ornate but Naevia, Nasir, and Camilla agreed it would be the proper dress for the role she was playing. Thais seemed to like the fabric. She couldn’t stop touching it as if it was a precious treasure. It broke something in Agron to see such a young child consider a simple dress a luxury she never dreamed to own. 

“You will stay at Nasir and Naevia’s side,” Agron ordered.

Thais rolled her eyes and giggled. “Of course, Agron. I have sense.” She kissed his cheek before running over to the port side to watch the ship prepare to anchor. 

Agron shook his head and walked over to Nasir who was shrugging on his own costume. He made a face as if it was distasteful to wear such things. The dark green suited him. Agron batted Nasir’s hands away as he struggled to get the belt right.

“I used to do nothing but dress others. You think I could do the same for myself,” Nasir muttered.

“Shh,” Agron said. He kissed the tip of Nasir’s nose. “We once helped each other don our armor. I miss you in nothing but worn trousers and that spear, smelling of leather, fur, and the earth. Still, I will not complain to see you like this, dressed in luxury and smelling of the sea.” He tilted Nasir’s chin up and stole a quick kiss. It turned into something deeper, longer, as Nasir cupped Agron’s face and pulled him closer. 

Kyros’ obvious cough wasn’t enough to separate them. 

“I can’t take him into the market with that much evidence of a passionate embrace with a man,” Kyros said. “Break it up you two.”

Agron pulled back with a grin to match Nasir’s own. The scrape of his beard against Nasir’s skin could barely be seen. The hair though, that would need fixing.

“We’ll fix it once we get off the ship,” Kyros said as if he could read their thoughts. He grabbed Nasir’s arm and started to guide him towards the rest getting ready to depart.

“Once your sense returns I will hand over Arieh,” Naevia said. 

Agron turned to her. “I am not to do any heavy lifting. Tanith said so.”

Naevia gave him a look far too reminiscent of Crixus. “I am sure you can manage one small babe held on your good side. Camilla has earned the right to a rest.”

“Yes, she has,” Camilla yelled as she disappeared into a tent.

Arieh blew a spit bubble at them. He seemed deceptively innocent but Agron knew if he was left alone he’d crawl down to the hull and roll in the grain. Arieh suddenly broke his babbling and starting pointed at him. “Ag Ag Ag, Ag,” he said while reaching out. 

“The little prince has decreed his approval,” Agron said. 

Naevia pressed a kiss to Arieh’s hair. “Take care of him,” she said.

“I will,” Agron promised.

“I was talking to Arieh,” she said. 

Agron made sure to glare at her until she’d disappeared down the ropes and on to the dock.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III: The Fair Breeze Blew, The White Foam Flew, The Furrow Follow'd Free **

_Alexandria_

Camilla had given up on sleep an hour or so after the others left. Agron was grateful to hand Arieh over to someone else. He adored the boy, but holding him that long made his good shoulder sore. He knew he could leave Arieh to crawl; there were just splinters, hidden knives, and all other sorts of mischief the son of Naevia and Crixus could find. Camilla shared some warm wine and a newly acquired bread with them. They were watching the people mill about the two ports; Arieh pointing at many of them and babbling about anything that struck his fancy. The port alone was busier than anything Agron had seen in Capua. There were so many people, so many languages, that it almost made him dizzy trying to filter a single one out. He really was woefully unprepared for travel in this part of the world. It would only get worse the farther they sailed from Rome’s core influence. 

“Do you recognize any of that noise?” he asked.

Camilla nodded. “There’s some Greek. I haven’t heard it much since I was a child but I recognize the sounds. Do not worry Agron; we didn’t bring you along to translate.”

“No, but those who can are those who are strangers to us. It doesn’t sit well with me,” he admitted.

Camilla patted his arm. “I think of all gathered here, Nasir had the worst start and look where he stands now. In the end, Spartacus sought his mind more than he sought Donar or Lydon’s, his own fellow gladiators. I would say unknown strangers have advanced this group far.”

Camilla came from Nasir’s villa and yet they didn’t appear friendly until half-way up Vesuvius. It was Mira’s doing, he recalled, trying to get friends and foe of old to band together. While Spartacus used fights and competition, Mira favored gossip and meals. Gods, he missed her more with each new dawn; the months and years mattered little for an absence so harshly felt. It would fade one day, he was certain, unlike Duro, who would never leave him. 

“What was he like before?” Agron asked. 

Camilla switched Arieh from one hip to the other as they all walked the length of the deck. “Nasir?”

Agron nodded. “He’s told me of his past. I just wondered how others saw him.”

“He was arrogant, or at least I thought so. You saw that villa, no wife or children about. Nasir was ever at the side of that bastard who owned us. Chadara held power too—Nasir though, he held _influence_.”

“I recall the Roman guards made a remark about him not being at his dominus’ side.”

“Wherever Atilius went, Nasir stood with him. I think it’s why Nasir denied, at first, he felt anything towards you.”

_That_ got Agron’s attention. “What do you speak of?”

Camilla laughed as they sat on some empty trunks. “Surely you must’ve known he was as infatuated with you from the start as you with him?”

Agron shook his head. He honestly thought Nasir indifferent or, worse, scared. It wasn’t uncommon. Agron knew how he could come off, especially back then when the pain of Duro’s passing still throbbed with each breath. In those early days the Nasir from those first few nights, the one with the temper and the sharp tongue, was gone. Even when they talked, Nasir rarely met his eyes and revealed little of his own thoughts. Agron thought the cause lost until they came upon the cart headed towards the mines, when one small, uncertain smile warmed his heart even as the lies to Crixus spilled from his lips. 

Camilla laughed again at Agron’s silence. “The Fates really did lead you two together. He didn’t want it to appear that he was using anyone for position. Especially not after making attempt on Spartacus’ life.”

“I did not think you two talked much then,” Agron said.

Camilla looked out over the people on the dock. “We had a falling out after Chadara’s death. There was a lot of blame that went around. We both tried to find fault with the other for why she was gone. Nasir and I, we found our places and left Chadara floundering. We both weren’t there as we should’ve been after Rhaskos.”

Agron stroked her dark hair. “Camilla, you cannot condemn yourself for living your own life.”

She raised a brow. “Sound advice you should follow.”

Agron could hear the thrum of steady marching and strained to see the far port. Over the bridge a group of guards were headed in their direction. They had lists in their hands and one leader was pointing to each new ship that came into port. 

“Give me Arieh,” he ordered. 

Bewildered, Camilla handed him over. Agron carefully lowered him into the basket beside the trunk he was sitting on. He turned to study Camilla. Right then she looked like a typical member of their rebel party, not a wealthy merchant’s wife.

“Put on the nice clothes. Guards are coming,” Agron said. He hid a dagger in the band of his breeches for easiest access with his good hand. He positioned himself in front of Arieh’s basket and prepared for a fight. He took a moment to center himself, to help mind and body to connect. If things went badly, he’d need to think, not react. It wasn’t natural for him but he was learning under Tanith’s teachings. There was more at stake now than his own blood. Arieh started to babble again and Agron crouched down to pat his head.

“Quiet, little cub. We have guests coming.” 

Arieh pointed at the tents. “No, no,” he said. He sat up and strained to crawl out of his basket in the direction of Camilla’s tent.

Agron untied a scrap of fabric around his wrist and gave it to Arieh who seemed overjoyed with a new distraction. Agron righted himself just in time for the guard’s arrival on his deck. 

“Peace, friend,” one of the guards called out in Latin. “We are just here to search for documents.”

Agron tilted his head as if he didn’t understand. The guard repeated his orders in three different tongues, none of which Agron recognized. He shrugged and turned to look at the tents. Camilla waved a hand signaling she was ready. 

“Mistress,” he yelled out as if he was Lugo. “Guards here.”

Camilla emerged from her tent half-dressed and looking mostly enraged.

“What is the meaning of this,” she screeched in a voice Agron had never heard. Arieh started to cry. Agron sympathized with him.

“See what you have done,” Camilla demanded as she stared down the guards. “What sort of world do we live in when my husband cannot take my daughter into a city without guards boarding our ship? I just needed a rest from this oppressive heat and I get this. What kind of city are you running here? We would never get such treatment in Rome.”

The lead guard blinked and held up his hands. “Peace, lady. It is a requirement of all who enter Alexandria to allow us to search for literature. We need to make sure none of our texts are being smuggled out of the city.”

Camilla scoffed. “Does this look like a ship where we concern ourselves with literature?” She pointed to Agron. “The only story that one knows is fit for the whorehouses. My husband has no love of art. Search if you like but you will find nothing but our manifest.”

The problem was they _did_ have a group of documents to deliver. Agron just didn’t know if Kyros had taken them with him or if they were still hidden somewhere. Camilla stood before them, tapping her foot in annoyance while she glared at the guards. Agron could see the fear in her though. She was breathing faster than usual and her fingers were twisting in the fabric of her dress. He couldn’t comfort her now, not in his current role as her guard. 

“Well?” Camilla asked when the guards returned and stood before her empty handed. 

“Apologies for interrupting your rest,” the head guard said. “We hope you enjoy your stay in Alexandria.”

Agron followed them until the last one was off their deck and waited until they were far away from the ship. He exchanged a look with Camilla and they both burst out into nervous laughter. She picked Arieh up and smiled at the set of documents kept hidden by his body in the basket.

“No one ever suspects the babe,” she said. 

Agron shook his head in disbelief. That was far too fucking close a call. 

***********************

Someone was licking Agron’s face and by breath alone he could tell it wasn’t Nasir.

“Fuck the gods,” Agron groaned. “You let them get a dog.”

“And a cat,” Nasir said. He massaged Agron’s scalp. “She’s already caught three rats.”

“Why is the dog in our tent?”

“Because ours normally lacks small children,” Nasir explained. He stroked his fingers down Agron’s forearm. “How does your shoulder feel?”

It itched like hell and he had long grown weary of the honey smell. Tanith said the wound itself was closed but that it would take months, maybe even years, for the muscles and tendons to go back to normal. She warned him not to overdo anything if he ever wanted to lift more than Arieh in the future. She had led him through some exercises yesterday while the others once again explored the wonders of Alexandria. While they bought new bedding and tried different foods, Agron had been at Tanith’s mercy just trying to stretch his arms. 

“It’s a different kind of sore now. Tanith says I can attempt the ropes but advises that I should take my time.”

“Good,” Nasir said. “There is a thing I would have done here. I want you present for it.”

Agron reached up and pulled Nasir’s face down close, so he could attempt to see what was hidden in those eyes.

“You are not getting a tattoo like Kyros, are you?”

Nasir hesitated. “No, not a tattoo,” he said.

A lie by omission. His Nasir always was a clever one. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s just a thing, a custom if you will,” Nasir said.

Agron smirked and ran his hand down from Nasir’s ear, to his neck, past his collarbones and the hollow of his throat, the center of his chest, and stopped right over his abdomen. It was a sensitive strip of skin that could turn Nasir to a whimpering mess with one press of a finger. Agron hovered his hand there, delighted as Nasir gulped in a breath and tried to prepare himself. His eyes were closed, as if that helped matters. It was almost too easy. Agron tilted his hips, smiled at Nasir’s surprised gasp, and rolled them over. He loomed over Nasir, taking in his wide eyes and loose hair before he leaned down and swiped his tongue over that strip of skin.

Nasir’s surprised yelp was answered by the dog at their feet. His agitation gave way to laughter and Agron had to join him. He hadn’t felt this carefree in ages. Alexandria had been good to them, a renewal of sorts, even if Agron had only seen her merchant’s port. 

“So, what is it you seek?” Agron asked.

“Hmm,” Nasir said. His fingers were tracing the muscles in Agron’s back. 

Agron would not be distracted from his cause. At least, not yet.

“What is it you seek in Alexandria?” Agron repeated.

“Oh,” Nasir said. He licked the underside of Agron’s chin and grinned. “Seti wishes to see his ear pierced like Lydon’s. I thought to have mine re-done as well since the hole finally closed. It would be my choice this time to wear such an adornment. We can appear like proper sailors. Donar goes with us; you should too.”

“You are to be a wealthy merchant’s son, not some raggedy sailor,” Agron said.

“I play that part here but I don’t always intend to. Besides, if any passing Romans should question me I’ll just claim it’s the height of fashion wherever I come from.”

“Just don’t mention Capua,” Agron grumbled. 

“Oh, but the chances I could have to speak of the once great arena there and all those handsome gladiators,” Nasir teased. He face grew serious. “All of them would be proud of us. I know it in my heart.”

Agron made a noise of agreement. He didn’t completely believe such but he wouldn’t ruin the mood now. He leaned down and tugged the lobe of Nasir’s ears between his teeth. 

Nasir laughed. “I want it re-pierced but not by your teeth.”

By the end of the day they would all, Arieh included, have new small golden hoops through their earlobes. It marked them as sailors and as a group; their first full act together that didn’t involve surviving a storm. Agron wanted to believe it a step in the right direction towards a better fucking place; not an easy task when Lydon kept going on about it being proper payment for Charon and the Underworld. 

**************************

_Raphia_

They next made port at Raphia after a four day journey over calm seas. It was the first time Agron was allowed off the ship at docking. The port wasn’t nearly as grand as Alexandria’s. It reminded him of something between Hadrumentum and Carthage. Signs of battle were in the stones. He didn’t recognize the languages here. Only Kyros and Tanith appeared able to converse and of the two, only Kyros did so rapidly. 

“Who rules this land?” he asked Tanith.

Tanith shrugged. “It is complicated. Rome hasn’t yet struck her claim here. It’s been fought and handed over many times in the past few centuries. For now, Kyros will use as many tongues as he can to find us a cargo. We shall not stay here long; Tyre calls for us. There is better choice of everything there.”

They were all dressed like sailors this time around. Thais still seemed amazed by her new dress, even if it’s fabric was harsher than her Roman costume. She had options now, choice, even in something as simple as clothing. Seti still clung to his old breeches, a hand-me-down from Nasir that should’ve been bound for the rag-pile long ago. Agron couldn’t say much. He still felt half-naked without his armor. Breeches were unfamiliar to him after near three years spent in a subligaculum. The chill of the seawater demanded more clothing though and Agron was learning to adjust to the different weight on his skin. 

He turned back to the ship and felt his brow wrinkle. Donar was standing awfully close to Naevia.

“Nasir,” he called in confusion. 

Nasir carefully helped Thais down from his shoulders, leaving her in Tanith’s care, and jogged over to him. 

“Does your shoulder hurt?” Nasir asked. He pressed a hand to Agron’s forehead. “Do you feel faint? The sun is a bit much here, isn’t it? Perhaps we should get you some food. I think they’re selling jerky over there. I hope so with that smell. Maybe you should sit.”

Sigihild shook her head. “And I thought you were bad when Nasir got his wound.”

“My apologies for caring,” Nasir hissed. 

Agron dropped a kiss on Nasir’s forehead. He’d grown restless the closer they drew to Syria. The sea-air, once a guaranteed comfort for Nasir’s sleep, seemed to keep him awake. It was sending him to extremes, from overly-caring to ill-tempered. Agron hadn’t got the full story out of him; neither Camilla nor Lydon knew what caused the change. It seemed better just to humor him.

“Nasir, I am well. My arm barely aches.” He gestured to the ship. “I just wondered how long that’s been going on.”

Nasir glanced up. “I don’t see anything but two friends attempting to talk over the howling wind. Honestly, Agron. Must everything fall under your suspicions?”

Agron exchanged a look with Sigihild who gestured to Seti, who was pointing to a stall in the distance.

Agron tugged on Nasir’s arm and followed Seti’s directions. “Oh, Nasir, it looks like Seti’s found something. Shall we go see if it’s a new sword or shield or—” Agron paused. 

“Or horses,” Nasir said. 

Before them stood a group of grey-and-white horses with wedge-shaped heads. Various people were gathered around them, apparently arguing about size and weight. Agron stood back as Nasir waded into the crowd for a closer look. Nox, whether Nasir liked to admit it or not, had been his pet. Once that horse went down defending Nasir’s life, he never took another for a ride unless circumstances required it. 

“I don’t think we could afford the price or the added weight on the ship,” Sigihild said. 

“No we can’t,” he agreed. “If it can help heal a little of that hurt though, it is a good distraction.”

She gripped his good arm in a warrior’s hold. “I suppose congratulations are in order for not fucking this up with him. You’ve done a lot better than I or Donar expected. We thought you’d stay in a self-destructive state.”

Agron pulled her into an embrace. He laughed when she squawked and tried to pull away. 

“I’ve apparently surrounded myself with some of the wisest people in the known world. Don’t doubt that my guilt still keeps me up most nights. Tanith has forced me into voicing my concerns while she heals me. I’ve learned to recognize we all have moments when guilt attacks us; I don’t always _remember_ , but I am trying to be more than just an angry little boy. I’m still learning to push it all aside, Sigihild, and some days I do not succeed. I can’t help but think how things would be if Saxa, Kore, Castus, Marina, Lugo, Aquilina, any of the others were here instead. If Spartacus traveled with us would we have returned to Thrace? Would Seti have ever had the chance to see where his parents came from? Would Nasir be returning home and discovering more of who he is with each day? There are so many things and situations I could worry about. I’d much rather concern myself now if we make it to the next port and leave all other worries to the night.”

“You almost don’t sound like you,” she said. “I’m starting to see a bit of the chieftain and clan-leader you are destined to become.”

Agron nodded. “Life is a harsh teacher, is it not? I’ve had its lessons forced upon me.”

Nasir’s laugh carried on the wind as one of the horses nuzzled at him. The creature apparently thought treats were hidden in Nasir’s hair. 

“Though sometimes it rewards you in ways you could never imagine,” Agron said. 

Sigihild smiled in agreement as they watched Seti and Thais dash through the crowds to join Nasir. He struggled to hold them both up so they could touch the horse’s muzzle. Soon Seti would be taller than Nasir; possibly even by the time they reached Germania. Now though, like Thais, he was just a child intrigued by the playful beast before him. Agron searched the market for the other two who had left the ship. Tanith now stood beside Kyros, looming over all and surely trying to get them a decent pay-out for their work. 

“And sometimes it’s just amusing,” Sigihild agreed. 

************************

Calm seas and warm breezes saw them to a celebratory night as they traveled the short distance between Raphia and Tyre. Two nights at sea and then they’d arrive in a city where Kyros promised they would find riches. 

Kyros and Lydon were playing on their flutes while wine was passed around. Even Arieh was awake and joining the dances, clinging to Thais’ leg on unsteady feet.

“Ma, ma,” he pointed to Naevia and then Nasir. “Zir!” he yelled. 

Agron pulled Nasir up from his spot on the deck. “You’ve heard the little cub; he’s ordering you to dance.” He pushed Nasir into Naevia’s open arms to the laughter of all. “Watch the hands, Naevia.”

“I’ll put them wherever Nasir likes,” she teased. 

Tanith held a hand out to Agron. “Come, let us share a dance as well. I am willing to risk my feet for your humiliation.”

“You are a gracious woman,” Agron said. He was unused to having his arms around someone of equal height. “Do not curse me, witch, if my hands stray.”

“Not a witch, a Nubian,” she corrected. “I was certain that was explained.”

Agron smirked. “Oh, Kyros has shared a tale or two of your cursing the skies and making it rain. Is that something all Nubians can do?”

“Only the very talented ones,” Tanith said. 

He ignored the whistles from Donar as they danced circles around the others, Tanith leading the whole set. Agron was just proud of not stomping on her feet. 

Tanith nodded in approval at the end. “There is an unexpected grace in you; a benefit of your fighting I’m sure. You also hold you wounded arm well. How does the shoulder feel?”

“The normal ache, nothing more,” Agron said.

Tanith nodded. “I doubt the ache will ever leave, though it seems your practice with the ropes is causing little harm. I believe you may return to fully practicing your sword. We may have to change your grip and fighting style but, all things considered, you must be graced by the gods to survive such a wound and remain so intact.”

“I doubt the gods would grace one who curses them so,” Nasir teased. He wrapped his arms around Agron’s waist and leaned up for a kiss. There was the tang of salt on his lips and the familiar smell of the sea in his hair. He looked a very imp under the stars and low lamp-light.

Tanith grinned at them. “You two should dance; I think it would be quite the humorous sight.”

“And one completely improper for the children,” Donar called. He walked up to them. “If you are so eager to see two men dance, we shall see to it.” He held out a hand to Agron. “Come, brother, let us show them how we do things east of the Rhine.” 

Sigihild bumped Kyros off his perch. “Go watch with Nasir. We need pounding hands and feet for this, not little flutes.” 

Kyros bowed in respect. “Apologies for the lack of drums.” He turned to Nasir and held out his arm. “Brother, shall we show them that Syrians can dance just as fiercely as barbarians?”

Nasir nodded. “Yes, let us prove who has the better skill.”

The rest of the night was spent in a dizzying mix of dances, laughter, and arguments over who was the best. 

*************************

_Tyre_

From Hadrumentum through Raphia they had transported grain, cloth, or common dyes. Everything changed at Tyre. Here was a major port like Alexandria. It also had two different sides to its harbor and heavily fortified walls. It was full of people and goods. It would be easy to disappear in the swell of humans, cattle, and ships. Wealth poured from the city both in the citizens’ dress and the general state of the streets. 

It also showed a bit of the cultural divide between the Germans and those raised under Rome and Greece’s influence. Donar, Agron, and Sigihild looked on in confusion as Naevia and Nasir excitedly told myths of Tyre to the children who already knew half the stories. It was a magnificent city from the outside.

From the inside, it smelled horrible.

Thais buried her face into Agron’s side as they left the ship. They were downwind of something horrendous and Agron, who had spent hours in some of the dankest places known to man, felt bile rise in his throat.

“It’s the fermenting shellfish,” Kyros explained, “for the dye. We’ve made decent time and arrived for the start of one of the best seasons. It’s not pleasant but gods, does it bring in money.”

Nasir gagged and held a hand over his face. “How do people stand it here?”

Kyros shrugged. “What we all do for a little coin. I’ve smelled worse.”

“Please,” Nasir begged, “never tell me of the adventures that led to such a thing.”

Agron looked back up towards the ship where Sigihild and Naevia gleefully waved. They both had cloths over their mouths and seemed far from bothered. He would’ve given them a rude gesture in response if it wasn’t for the hold Thais had on his arm. 

“No need to stand around looking like the tourists we are,” Kyros said. “We go to seek our cargo.” 

Agron narrowed his eyes. There was an inherent evil to Kyros’ smile.

“We are _not_ transporting this rancid shit,” Agron said.

Kyros patted his arm. “Now, now, Agron. That foul-smelling purple dye in bundles of wool will fetch us more money than any transport we’ve taken until now. It’s quite a prize, to secure this cargo. We’re talking about a valuable commodity. Granted, we’ve only been trusted to carry it up to Antioch and sure, we’ll probably be followed by an additional vessel with armed guards to see that our cargo reaches its recipient, but think of all the added goat jerky it can buy.”

Agron almost lost the contents of his stomach then and there. Not goat jerky, never goat jerky, never goat jerky with the horrid smell invading his nostrils. 

“Agron doesn’t consume goat,” Nasir explained. “Not that any could imagine food with this air. Gods, I can swear it’s getting worse.”

Kyros shook his head at them. “I am traveling with weaklings. Notice the children don’t moan as much as the rest of you.”

“That’s because the children don’t yet stand tall enough to get the full impact,” Lydon said.

“We get enough,” Seti argued.

Kyros rolled his eyes. “I can’t take anyone who is squeamish to secure this job. Tanith, Camilla, you come with me. Lydon, why don’t you take the children back to the ship? We’ll be here for a week at most. They can see the square when it’s not so pungent.” He turned to Nasir, Agron, and Donar. “You three can replenish supplies. Gesture if you have to but you should find a dealer or two who speaks Latin. Nasir, don’t show confusion if they try to engage you with words you don’t recognize. They’ll correctly guess you as an outsider and try to screw you on the deal. Just look skeptical.”

Nasir glared at Kyros as he fought not to gag.

“Perfect,” Kyros declared. “Ladies, if you will.” 

Camilla and Tanith shook their heads but proceeded towards a section of town where the stench originated. Lydon had Thais pulled from Agron’s side before any could protest. The three of them damn near ran back to the boat. 

“This is bullshit,” Donar declared.

Agron and Nasir nodded but they still walked toward the market. They needed more rope and canvas. It would be their first time trying to purchase supplies without Kyros or Tanith hovering behind them. It was an obvious test and Agron was determined they would pass it.

“Perhaps Nasir should approach them first,” Donar said. “If they think he speaks the tongue they might offer him a better price.”

“I do speak some of it,” Nasir said, clearly insulted. “I may not be able to hold a discourse on local literature but I can surely work out a decent deal on canvas and rope.” He held out his hand for one of the small coin purses Donar kept close to his chest. “Hand it over and leave me to it. I leave you to secure food.”

Agron stopped Nasir before he could stomp off. He didn’t know how they’d be seen here, among these people, so he settled for a lingering warrior’s grasp, letting his fingers rub circles into the inside of Nasir’s arm.

“Be safe,” Agron advised. “Yell if you require assistance.”

“Tötet sie alle,” Nasir said, correctly repeating the war cry Agron had taught him. 

“Kill them all,” Donar said with a grin. “Spartacus would be pleased.”

“We will always carry him with us in our own way,” Agron said. 

Nasir squeezed Agron’s arm one last time before he disappeared into the bustling crowd.

“So, food,” Donar said. 

“As long as it’s not fucking goat meat,” Agron grumbled. He would never be able to stomach the meat without thinking of his beloved Wodan.

********************

Three days into their time at Tyre, the smell wasn’t getting better. They had a date of departure though and Agron was enjoying the chance to practice on a deck that wasn’t constantly swaying in the waves. 

Today was the first day he used his shoulder without the tight bandages or the various creams Tanith slapped over it. Nearly four journeys of the moon since they left Hadrumentum he finally took up the sword again. 

“Again,” Tanith ordered as Lydon blocked Agron’s blow.

The late-summer sun was beating down on them but the breeze off the sea kept them cool enough. Donar and Camilla made sure to keep their jugs replenished from the water tank below. The still had wine for the special occasions but it left a different sort of sweet aftertaste in his mouth that Agron, at least, didn’t enjoy. He’d never thought to see the day when he’d take warm water over wine.

He wasn’t the only one training. While Kyros had Seti learning the correct stroke pattern and procedure for the rudder oar, Thais stood between Nasir and Sigihild learning how to use daggers. They had no intention of the children fighting any more battles. It still didn’t hurt to prepare them or teach them to protect themselves if the worse should happen. 

Naevia traded off with Lydon and came at Agron with a fast attack. She’d learned well from all their battles and her footwork was much swifter than his own. She wasn’t letting up on him like Lydon had and Agron could feel his arm start to shake.

“Enough,” Nasir ordered. 

Agron wasn’t one to turn from a fight, even in training. He wanted to ignore Nasir’s words, and a year ago Agron would have. Things had changed and now, after the axe to his shoulder, he’d vowed to always follow Nasir’s commands. 

“Agron,” Nasir repeated.

Agron nodded at Naevia and stood down. “You still remain one of the best of us,” he said.

Naevia nodded. “I had the best teachers.”

They both shared a sad smile as if Oenomaus’ and Crixus’ voices carried over them, whispering through the wind that stirred the sails. 

“Let’s see the shoulder,” Tanith said. She stood over him and inspected it.

Agron yelped at a hard jab.

“Muscles a little tense, I see. You should go purchase some almond oil in the market. It would work best for the next time we work out the stiffness,” she said.

“Now?” Agron asked.

“It depends on how badly you’d like your shoulder to seize up,” Tanith said. “You should still be well enough to climb down to the dock and back.”

“You have complained of being confined,” Naevia teased.

“Which I was until Raphia,” Agron said. “If you insist.”

“We will go with you,” Nasir said as he pointed to Donar. “Let’s not have Agron lost in the crowd.”

“Especially if he faints from the scent,” Donar said. 

It was unlooked for teasing by those he loved and trusted. He tried to glare them into submission but it was wasted on Nasir and Donar who knew him far too well. 

The market still baffled Agron. He doubted he would ever be used to so many people and activity at once. He and Donar both left such duties to Nasir, who had a talent for it. Nasir went to procure the oil and a list of herbs Tanith required while they browsed the stalls. Agron carried some of his own coin, not just that for their party as a whole, and was desperate to find some decent hair ties for Nasir. His old ones were fraying and the force of the winds did enough damage to his hair on a day of calm waters. He wanted something more ornate than simple strips of leather. Nasir deserved something more decorative.

“You’re not going to find what you want here,” Donar said. “You look for something made by our kin. Just purchase some simple leather strands for Nasir now and gift him with all the hair clasps in Germania once we return.”

“Do you ever think we will return?” Agron asked. 

Donar shrugged. “I still hope. We’ve made it this far. At any moment our ship could find itself dashed on the rocks but until then, I will keep dreaming of our homeland.”

They were walking through the streets back to the center of the market, looking for Naevia’s favorite honey sweets, when their fate changed once again. A small thing, head covered with a tattered cloak, she bumped into Donar and tried to swipe his coin. If Donar was anything but the highly trained suspicious fuck he was, she would’ve gotten away with it. 

Donar grabbed the wrist of the young pickpocket and kneeled down to her size. “You have quick hands but you’re not quick enough,” he said in Latin.

The young girl looked more defiant than terrified though she remained silent.

“All you had to do was ask for coin,” Agron explained. 

She looked unconvinced. “There is always a cost,” she intoned.

It killed Agron that such a young girl already knew the price. It made him think of Nasir; of a young boy barely able to speak in full sentences and sold to a slave trader. Agron kneeled down beside Donar and held out a handful of coins; the smaller denominations used in this area so as not to raise suspicions.

“Not among those who know what it means to go hungry,” he explained. 

She studied him through narrowed eyes. “It looks like you’ve never missed a meal.”

Donar and Agron both laughed at her attitude. “If you count living on pissed-in porridge and rat meat a meal.”

She shrugged. “Rat meat isn’t so bad. If you steal some spices it works better.” She palmed the coins in between one breath and the other.

“Do you work for a band of thieves or is this your own operation?” Donar asked.

“Are you recruiting or looking for an opportunity?” she asked.

A clever one with a smart mouth. Her eyes and smile were just like Duro’s even if her skin reminded him of Hamilcar.

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/inthestreets_zpsac65f282.png.html)

“Are you harassing the youth of this fair city?” Nasir asked as he approached.

Confusion fell over the girl’s face as she looked between him and them. “He speaks better Latin than you.”

“He’s the most Roman out of us. You speak Latin fluently then?” Agron asked.

“I’ve learned the different accents. Those from Rome have some of the best coins and the brightest jewels.”

Nasir laughed and looked around the square. “No other thieves out here to trade signals with and these fools haven’t been liberated of all their possessions. You run your own network. Would you like a different line of work?”

“Why?” She looked wary, checking behind them for others. “What’d you want with a street rat?”

“We are all street rats here, little one,” Nasir said. He held out his hand. “I am Nasir and am in need of one who understands the tongue in these lands. I hope you don’t fear the sea.”

The girl tilted her head back. “What’s my pay? I don’t work for free.”

Nasir smirked. “You get free sea passage, bedding to sleep on, food in your belly, and a share of the profits from our cargo trade.”

She shook her head and her fingers tightened into fists. “Too good of an offer. You’re going to sell me off to a whorehouse back in Rome, aren’t you?”

Nasir’s jaw clenched and Agron stroked a finger down his back to calm him.

“Trust me, you will meet no others who despise the Romans and their slave trade as much as us. You want out of this city. We need someone who can understand many languages. You’re young enough not to be noticeable.”

“Unlike them,” she said as she pointed to Donar and Agron.

Nasir laughed. “They do stand out here.”

“Just a bit.” She took Nasir’s hand. “I am Elissa.”

“Like the Queen?”

“Like the priests named me.”

“You got a pack to carry?” Donar asked.

Elissa shook her head. “Everything I own is on me.”

“We should take her to the baths first,” Nasir said. “Comb the lice out of her hair. I’ll take care of it. You two go back.”

“We do this together or not at all. No one alone in the ports,” Agron repeated the one rule of Kyros’ he refused to violate. 

Nasir rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered.

“Is he always like that?” Elissa asked Nasir.

“Too often,” Nasir said.

Their return to the ship was about as well as Agron expected.

“We sent you out for herbs and you come back with a child,” Tanith said.

“And sweets,” Donar said as he passed a sack to Naevia.

Elissa stood with her chin raised in pride. She stood in clean breeches and a stiff shirt as she refused to accept anything more ornate. Agron could understand that, not wanting to grow too in-debt to a stranger.

“She’s about as fluent as Kyros, at least in speech,” Nasir said.

“No need for letters,” Elissa said. 

Camilla shrugged. “Well, I suppose she’ll be bedding down with me and Thais. Just a warning, we frown upon murdering each other in our sleep here.”

Elissa’s eyes widened and she turned to Nasir. “What kind of boat is this?”

“A damned one,” Nasir replied.

 

*****************************

Agron woke on their last day in Tyre with Seti on his chest and Arieh gnawing on his fingers. 

“They left you demons to watch me, I see.”

“Ag, grr,” Arieh said in agreement.

Seti nodded. “Naevia said to wake you if we were hungry. She doesn’t want us near the water tank.”

“No, I can rightly imagine her fear. Did you have some of the dried fruit this morning?”

Seti shook his head. “Tanith brought us fresh fruit. They’re called limes.”

“Do you like them?”

“Better than all the grapes. It’s different.”

Seti had already learned to never turn down offered food. The twist to his lips said the new fruit wasn’t his favorite. Agron patted Seti’s head with his free hand.

“You greedy little imps still want more food?”

“We’re growing boys.”

“You are. Where are the girls? Or have you finally pitched them both overboard like you threatened yesterday?”

“Only Elissa and that’s because she’s rude. Tanith took them into port. Thais needs new hair ribbons and they’re going to try and con Elissa into a new shirt, at the least. Why won’t she just accept the gifts? She’s part of our crew. She works towards the upkeep. Does she not understand that’s how she’s paid?”

“I fear Elissa has not known much kindness in her life. She will be suspicious of any gifts. You will have to help teach her, with Thais and Arieh. Just be patient, Seti. She doesn’t know family.”

“She’s going to have to learn,” Seti declared. 

They were halfway through a helping of porridge when Nasir and Lydon returned to the ship. They each carried a small crate of amphorae.

“For us or for transport?” Agron asked.

“Us,” Lydon said. “Greek wine. Most likely weak due to the price but still, something familiar.”

Nasir emerged from the hull and greeted Agron with a deep kiss.

“I tried to wake you before we departed,” he explained.

Agron held on to Nasir and kept him close. “I was exhausted from Tanith’s exercise.”

Nasir pouted. “I saw. Asleep when I came to our bed, still asleep when I left it. A man could feel neglected with such behavior.”

Agron ran a hand over Nasir’s hair and smoothed out the snarls. “I can’t have you so unsatisfied. You might run off with Lydon.”

Lydon shook his head. “I like my cock attached to my body and my blood still inside my veins.”

Nasir smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother.” His tongue swiped Agron’s wrist. “I’ve developed a taste for Germans.”

“We should warn Donar,” Lydon said. He shoved Agron. “Get in your tent. I’ll watch the babes.”

“Arieh is due to eat soon. Re-heat the porridge from this morning,” Agron said even as Nasir dragged him towards their tent.

“Yes, Agron,” Lydon replied.

“And Kyros asked that Seti be kept away from the astrolabe,” Agron said. He was slightly distracted by the fingers already reaching for the ties of his breeches.

“Yes, Agron,” Lydon repeated.

“And I fixed the tear in Thais’ cloak if she asks when they return.”

Nasir dug his fingers into the skin of Agron’s hips. Agron stopped speaking and turned to him.

“Apologies,” he said. 

Nasir nodded. “Good. Now let us keep your attention where it’s supposed to be.”

Agron could only hear the faint strains of Lydon’s laughter as the tent flap fell closed behind them. 

Hours later Agron woke in Nasir’s arms to a loud commotion coming from the deck. The tent was overly warm from the afternoon sun and he had no desire to leave this place. The noise was getting louder though and it was starting to bother Nasir. Agron leaned down and brushed his lips across Nasir’s own before slipping on his breeches and stepping out on to the deck. 

He found a whole group gathered under the main mast.

“Silence yourselves,” he ordered. “Nasir sleeps. What requires all this noise?”

Naevia pointed upwards. “Elissa has climbed up there and refuses to come down.”

“Why?” Agron asked. He gratefully took the cup of water Thais brought to him. 

“That child lacks reason,” Camilla said.

He handed the empty cup back to Thais and patted her hair before she scampered off. He turned to Camilla and asked, “What did you ask of her to require her to scale the mast?”

“We only sought to fix her hair. It is a mess,” Tanith said. “She ran up there before Camilla even pulled a comb out of the trunk.”

“Seeing Camilla’s combing techniques, I’m not surprised,” Agron said. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and looked up. Sure enough Elissa was securely sat on the crossbeams, staring out at the sea and ignoring all below.

“She must come down before we depart,” Naevia said. “It is not safe for her up there.”

“Right now I think she’d take that risk over the one down here,” Lydon said. “Leave her be and she may come down in time. If not, we’ll send Seti up after her.”

“Why do I have to go?” Seti asked from where he was practicing on the oar.

“Because Thais is afraid of heights and we will have you raised as a young man with manners,” Lydon said. 

“Yes, one of us must be proper,” Agron agreed. He walked over to the mast and tapped its beam. “How’s it look?” he called up to Elissa.

“Slow breeze and calm seas,” she called down. “We might not sink.”

“You haven’t seen us sail yet,” Agron said. He titled his head. “Would you like to see Kyros’ astrolabe? Navigation is quite the valuable skill.”

Elissa shook her head. “I know you’re just trying to get me down. I like my hair as is.”

Agron nodded. “It’s distinctive. It’s you, Elissa. I swear I won’t touch your hair. Kyros won’t either.”

Kyros nodded and held up his hand in peace. “I could do with an assistant. I can’t explain all my directions in Latin. It would be nice to converse with someone in my own tongue.”

Elissa seemed to think about it before she slid down from her perch. Agron held his breath until she had two feet planted on the deck.

“How’d you learn to climb like that?” he asked.

Elissa shrugged. “You learn to run fast and climb faster.”

Agron shook his head in disbelief. They really had quite the collection of people on this ship.

“So, Syria?” he asked Kyros.

Kyros nodded. “We should leave while we still have light. Why don’t you sit at the rudder with Seti? Between the two of you we might get somewhere.”

“Even if that place is crashing into the coastline,” Donar said.

Agron, not wishing to raise voice and wake Nasir from much needed sleep, kept his mouth shut.


	4. Chapter 4

** Part IV: Nine Fathom Deep He Had Followed Us, From the Land of Mist and Snow **

Nasir returned to sleeplessness as they drew closer to Syria. They were to arrive within its territory the next day by Kyros’ estimation. Agron had just finished his shift watching the sails. Both his shoulders ached from using only one arm for the most of it. He wasn’t surprised to find Nasir sitting up in their tent.

“You should be resting,” Agron said as he flopped down beside him. “It will be your turn in half-a-day.

“It’s hardly a bother anymore,” Nasir said. “Soothing almost, to just sit there and watch. Don’t really have to think about anything.”

“Yet you are now.”

Nasir dug his fingers into the muscles of Agron’s back, working at them without Agron needing to ask. Agron was slid down and completely boneless by the time he finished. 

“You work yourself too hard,” Nasir chastised.

“I must do something to earn my keep,” Agron muttered into the blankets. He took a deep breath of them and smiled. They smelled like the sea, Nasir, and home.

Nasir raised his hands to knead the back of Agron’s neck. “I thought you did enough by just standing around and looking intimidating. Or drawing all the attention in the market as you pouted at everyone. Elissa thought you might have been a Thracian.”

Agron chuckled as he carefully rolled on to his back. The throb to his shoulder was a constant companion, but almost a year since the cut saw it as healed as it could be. 

“Our Thracian would’ve wept tears of woe if such a thing were true. At least she didn’t think me a Gaul,” he said as he settled.

“Good as,” Nasir teased, “for as far west and north as your lands lie.”

Agron raised his head up from the blankets. “Bite your tongue.”

“Do it for me,” Nasir whispered as he tilted his head down to meet Agron’s lips. 

Agron reached up and curled a hand in Nasir’s hair, guiding him down. It was a familiar position for them ever since Agron’s injury. He quite liked it, Nasir looming over him. It helped him feel safe. It kept him grounded. It often led to extremely pleasurable distractions. Not tonight though, not when such worries still weighed Nasir down. 

Agron reluctantly let him go. “I would have you speak such thoughts that keep you from sleep.”

Nasir’s shoulders slumped and he almost pitched forward. Agron caught him before he could fall. “Perhaps you should join me first.”

Nasir nodded and slid around Agron. They defaulted to one of their familiar positions of old, with Nasir’s head cradled against his chest.

“I am uncertain where to begin,” Nasir confessed. 

Agron slowly ran his fingers through Nasir’s hair. “Start with your first concern, no matter how small or serious it is.”

Nasir sighed. “I do not know the words of the tongues spoken here. I do not know the cadence. In the marketplace at Tyre, they shouted at me, switching from Latin to whatever they speak there. I was able to puzzle out enough. I just worry what will happen when we reach Antioch. I do not know the language I was born in and I feel ashamed for not remembering. Should I not hear it and be able to recall? Should I not know more than the basics Kyros has taught me? I know more of your tongue than my own.”

Agron kissed Nasir’s forehead and soothed his wrinkled brow. “You have spent more time with my people than you have with Syrians.”

“These are not Syrians though, not here, not yet. I do not know. Kyros tried to explain. It is all so confusing, Agron,” he groaned. “We are—we are heading north of my birthplace or Syria proper, possibly. I can’t explain it and Kyros tried to and I just lost interest. All these different rulers and peoples.”

“It is not your homeland; you should not know its tongue and its manner.”

Nasir’s fingers pawed at Agron’s chest. “If even these words of Tyre cause skin to crawl and chest to ache, what will happen when we reach Antioch?”

Agron ran his hands down Nasir’s back. “What will happen is that we will rely on Kyros and Elissa to lead us. You cannot learn the whole tongue between now and when we arrive. There should be no shame upon you, Nasir. You didn’t leave here by choice. You were stripped of your own person, your family, your culture. How so much of you remained intact under all they forced upon you, I will forever admire it.”

Nasir shook his head. “I see little to admire.”

“Even after we invaded the only home you remembered, slaughtered men and your master, you still remained defiant. You remained defiant in the face of those stronger than you who stood there without kind word and blood on our hands. You must’ve heard the tales of Spartacus before we arrived and yet you still attempted to take his life.” He kissed Nasir’s forehead again. “The fire always burned within you, Nasir, even if the flames had to be banked by necessity.”

Nasir didn’t look convinced. His wrapped the cords of Agron’s necklace around his fingers and twirled the beads. 

“Have you spoken with Kyros of your past?” he asked.

“We’ve been busy,” Nasir said.

Agron knew the danger of avoiding important conversations. It’d almost broken them once, their relationship falling to ruin by miscommunication and misguided feelings. In the end they were both to blame for the mess of things. It was Saxa who locked them inside a weapons hold until they spoke of every concern. It was one of the most difficult moments of Agron’s life. Nasir liked such talks as much as Agron. It would do neither Nasir nor Kyros well to enter Syria without speaking of their family bond. 

“We’ve been at sea for the better part of five months and you’ve not found a moment,” he teased.

Nasir smiled, eyes warming with past memories. “Well, it is no weapons hold. It is a small ship with many other occupants and quite a few pleasurable sights.” His fingers traced the muscles of Agron’s abdomen. “I’ve always enjoyed watching you move.”

“Nasir,” Agron chastised.

His fingers went back to clutching Agron’s necklace. It seemed easier for Nasir to look at his skin rather than his eyes. 

“I fear his reaction if he learns too much of my past. It is easier now when we are still building a friendship. Will he still desire to call me brother if he knows all? I’ve done many things in my life that I’m not proud of. What if he looks down on me? I reveled in my place at Atilius’ side.”

“You were a slave in a high position which held an imitation of power. You did what you had to, Nasir. Kyros is glad enough to see you with breath still in your lungs. Do not concern yourself with something you could never control.”

Nasir scoffed. “Spoken like a man who grew up outside slavery.”

Agron winced under Nasir’s touch. Their different lives sometimes became a point of argument. Over the past year Agron had finally admitted Nasir was correct; he could never truly comprehend what it meant to be raised a slave, to never know choice, and still have it denied when others decided what was best for him. Agron did not like to believe that there were times that no action or words could soothe worries. He did not show affection to many but those he loved and trusted. He’d always known a hand of comfort cupping cheek or a reassuring kiss pressed to forehead.

When Nasir was a young boy with cuts and broken fingers he’d had to hide the pain and injury to escape further punishment. He’d never known the loving touch of a concerned mother or the playful punch of a sibling.

It was why Nasir’s moments of silence could terrify Agron. He wanted this man, his fellow warrior, his very heart, to always be heard and seen. 

“I will never know what it was like to be raised as you were,” Agron agreed. He dragged his fingers down the side of Nasir’s face. “I do know what it’s like to be an older brother. To care enough that I’d risk my own life to see my little brother protected. I know what it is to stand back and watch my brother make his own mistakes. If Du—” Agron’s breath stuttered. “If Duro still lived he would be here to commiserate with you over my failings.”

“They are not failings,” Nasir said. “They are part of you, parts I love when they are in extremes and even more when tempered.”

“Neither one of us is without our extremes. Still, Nasir, Kyros just wishes to know you. He wants to know his brother but I think he will settle for the man first. Don’t you wish to know him as more than just the navigator of your ship, the one whose company you sought even before you held inkling of truth?”

Nasir laughed. “And how do you suggest we bond? Follow Donar and Lydon’s example? Have Kyros drag me from whorehouse to whorehouse in Antioch?”

“A Rite of Passage for any brother. I had to drag Duro out of one myself. For us it was an actual whore’s house. The closest thing to our settlement was a slightly larger village.”

“As if you never had to be dragged out of that whore’s house yourself.”

Agron grinned at past memories. “Oh, never. For me it was the hard ground behind our market stall and a cave on one memorable occasion.”

Nasir turned his head and kissed Agron’s hand before lightly biting down. “A thing we will surely revisit.”

“Hmm,” Agron agreed. 

“Have we spoken enough this night?” Nasir asked. 

Agron grinned. “I do have to bite your tongue, don’t I?”

Nasir nipped Agron’s hand again. “And other things, if you’re good enough.”

****************************

“It seems foolish to travel to Antioch,” Elissa said. She had the cat in her lap, the dog at her feet, and the astrolabe in her hands. She looked like she fit out here, hair gone wild and dark skin shining in the sunlight. 

“It’s a bit of risk sailing into it,” Kyros agreed. “We go into a warzone. It’s been almost ten years now.”

“You failed to inform of us this before because?” Naevia asked.

Kyros shrugged. “Syria is a land where power gets overthrown so often I cannot keep track. It doesn’t stop trade or ships from sailing through. An Armenian king holds it now. I’m sure it will change hands at least twice more in my lifetime. Still, we must use caution here. Rome is not unknown to them. In the north they fight a war with a great king. For our own safety, we must only speak the Roman’s tongue when we are alone.”

Agron choked on his wine. Donar made a similar sputtering sound.

“You take us to a _Roman_ warzone,” Agron yelled.

Tanith shook her head. “Did I not tell you it would be better to say something before we left Tyre?”

Kyros shrugged. “It was a calculated risk. We only have so much time to deliver this cargo. I did not see the reason to delay our travel with needless arguments.”

“Needless,” Agron scoffed. He would’ve launched himself at Kyros if it wasn’t for the hold Nasir had on his shoulders.

“Hear him out, Agron,” Nasir ordered. 

Agron stayed still only because Nasir’s fingers rested over the tender skin of his shoulder. The wind was calm; he could throw a knife from this position in required. It wouldn’t be as accurate as Saxa’s aim, but it didn’t have to be. Agron had beheaded a man with a shield before; he cared little for accuracy if it gained him desired result.

There was a distinct light in Kyros’ eyes and a twist to his lips. Agron knew that look. He’d seen it on Nasir’s face far too many times. It was a whole form of voiceless taunt, seeing how far Agron could be pushed before breaking. 

He only ever liked that look on Nasir.

Tanith placed herself between them. It forced Agron to abandon any thoughts of violence, at least from this position. She had saved him from losing his arm or dying from infection. He held respect for her and he, if only he knew it, had sworn to protect her. His own hand would not cause her harm. From the tilt of her head, she well knew his thoughts. 

“Conflict here is not uncommon,” Tanith said. She turned in a circle meeting each and every one of their eyes. “I do not know if it has seen true peace since the time of Alexander and even then he was a conqueror set on molding the world into his image. I only know from secondhand tales I’ve head over years. Syria still manages to go on thriving even if there is a war being fought in the north, south, or east. Kyros knows this world, as does Elissa. There is a risk, as there is to enter any port, but it is not a high one. It’s not as if the Roman troops we may run into would know you as rebels from the looks of you.” She walked over to Seti and fingered the golden hoop in his ear. “We look like sailors. We are a crew. Some of us may have brands, other tattoos, all scars, but they mark our past lives. We are our history and we are our future. We must keep going forward to follow the path of our journeys. Right now I believe that is together, for all of us.”

“Even if it is into the Roman army’s path?” Lydon asked. “That seems fucking audacious.”

“Just like us then,” Donar said. 

“Antioch itself stood long before its current battle and it will stand long after,” Kyros said. “I promise not to take you to the battle ground itself.”

“We save our own lives by not running around declaring who we are and where we come from,” Nasir said. “It is advice we’ve always followed form port-to-port. It should not change now.”

“Good advice to remember, Agron,” Camilla said. 

The tension broke with the choked laughter that started from Sigihild and carried on.

“I am not that bad,” Agron said.

“I once thought your full name was _Agron, from the lands east of the Rhine_ ,” Lydon said.

It was a kindness that Lydon failed to mention that in the ludus _and brother to Duro_ was part of that title.

“We have a favorable wind and will see ourselves within Laodicea’s harbor before day’s end. If the gods are kind we will not arrive at the start of an earthquake,” Kyros said. 

“Laodicea?” Camilla asked. “I thought we were to go to Antioch.”

“Antioch lies inland on the banks of an unnavigable river. We must take the road to get there. Part of our delivery in Laodicea will pay for a cart-and-horse. I assume the rest of you can live with the walking,” Kyros explained.

“We will have a horse?” Seti asked. He’d fallen in love with the creatures and Nasir, when the pain wasn’t too great, shared his tales of learning to ride Nox. They had a born rider with Seti.

“Might be best to grab a goat or two for milk,” Tanith said. “They are easier to transport than one of those godsforsaken cows.”

Donar slapped Agron’s good shoulder. “It always comes back to goats around you.”

Agron shrugged him off and stood in front of Kyros. He made sure to lean over him, to use his height as advantage and reminder. “And when we finish in Antioch can you guarantee there will be a ship to return to? How will we flee if we must?”

Kyros did not bow his head, another trait shared with his brother when backed against a wall. “I cannot guarantee you anything in this world, Agron. You of all people should know how often the gods fuck us all. I know how to handle money. We’ve done well for ourselves. We have more than enough able bodies to transport more goods from Laodicea to Antioch and earn even yet more coin. I have connections in this area. Laodicea is a city dear to me. I have done business in it often.”

“With a pirate crew,” Naevia said.

Kyros grinned. “Honor among thieves, yes? We have our own code and will always work well for the sake of good business. I know others there who come from similar backgrounds and have turned to a more honest life. We seek their aid to watch and hold this ship for us. There is a fee to keep it in dock, of course.”

“A fee we would have already paid come winter,” Tanith said.

“Ever the voice of reason that one,” Lydon said. He shook his head. “Well, if we are to abandon our ship, I would start packing.”

Kyros cocked his head to the side and raised a brow at Lydon. “We will be more than a few days in Laodicea. There will be time enough.”

“With these German fucks around, I’ve learned never to trust a planned schedule,” Lydon said. 

Kyros threw an amused look at Agron, then Donar, and finally Sigihild. “I well knew the three of you were curses to a favorable schedule.”

*******************

_Laodicea_

Laodicea was yet another bustling port. It looked quite different from Tyre, the buildings more reminiscent of what he saw in Alexandria. 

“Greece has long held sway here,” Kyros explained as they all gaped from the deck. He turned to Camilla. “You may truly help us here.”

“Marina would’ve been the better of us,” Camilla said. At Tanith’s confused look she explained. “She was Arieh’s minder and grew up in the shadow of Thebes.”

“Where is she now?” Kyros asked.

“If the gods are kind, Elysium,” Naevia said. She pressed a kiss to Arieh’s hands when he tried to grab at her hair. “Are we all to stand here wasting time or shall we go to market? I would not have us threatened if that delivery of overpriced dyed-wool sees us to our ends.”

Kyros nodded. “As always, Naevia speaks with our best concerns in mind. You and Donar should go seek a decent cart for us. Elissa, go with them to translate.”

“And what would you have with the rest of us?” Lydon asked.

“Would you and Sigihild be insulted if I kept you on the ship?” Kyros asked. “We do still have things to secure and account for. Seti, Thais, will you stay and help?”

“We will,” Thais said. 

Agron hid his smile at Seti’s disgruntled look of agreement but he voiced no objection.

“Nasir, you and Camilla go and seek us supplies for the roads. Listen to the conversations around you and see if we can find a decent sandler. The children will surely need something with a better fit for the road. Take a gaze of the horses as well. We need a strong one, not a sleek beast, but one that is made for cart-work.” 

“And what of us?” Tanith asked as she gestured to Agron.

“You two will come with me to deliver this wool. It shouldn’t be too much of a burden for Agron to carry our crate,” Kyros said.

“I believe I can handle it,” he agreed. 

They all dressed up in their respectable seafarer outfits. Nasir’s hair was pulled up away from his neck in a style Tanith had showed him. Agron was deeply distracted by the bare skin there.

“Agron,” Naevia barked out. 

He couldn’t see Nasir’s face but the shaking shoulders gave him away. Agron stood up straight and met Naevia’s frown with one of his own.

“I am ready to see to our tasks if all others are done standing around,” he said. 

Naevia took a deep breath and rested a hand on Arieh’s head where he was wrapped up for carrying. “We are surrounded by impossible fools, my love.”

Arieh laughed at his mother’s touch and waved one of his fists at Agron.

Agron did not know what he expected of a place that sold dyed cloth worth more than precious jewel. It was certainly something more glorious than the building now before them. The sound of weavers was all around them and dust flew in the air. It was fast-paced work and far from comfortable inside the building. Agron put down his crate of sacred purple wool when something caught his eye. He nearly lost the contents of his stomach when he saw a purple cloak laid out before him. It was one like Spartacus had worn as they blazed through the southern coast of Rome’s influence. Just like the one they had wrapped Crixus’ body in before placing him on his pyre. 

“Agron,” Tanith said. She laid a hand on his arm. “The heat is getting to me as well in here, let us step outside.”

Kyros nodded at them to leave and explained it in a way that even the shopkeeper sympathized with the poor outsiders who couldn’t handle the late-summer sun. 

“What is it?” Tanith asked once they stood in the fresh air.

Agron took a few deep breaths and forced the bile back down. There were certain names they did not speak among their new companions. Much like how Agron took months to find himself able to speak of Duro, the name Spartacus had not passed his lips willingly since they fled Regium. Tanith was one of them now; it was time she knew their full history, just _who_ and _what_ they were. Agron would tell her, even if it hurt.

“Old memories of beloved brothers. One whose true name I never knew. Spartacus they called him. He never revealed the one with which he was born. That name died with his wife, Sura. He took on a purple cloak in mockery of the Roman shits we fought against. When Crixus, Naevia’s man, fell we wrapped him in the cloak before he burned.”

Tanith’s touch was cool and soothing as always. He eagerly gave into her embrace, her long braids brushing against his overheated skin. 

“Was he dear to you, this Crixus?”

Agron laughed in place of tears. “I called him a fucking Gaul more often than his name.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Agron grinned. “We were often at each other’s throats but I occasionally held respect for him. In the end he was one of my oldest friends. When Duro died he was at my side. Gave me wine to pull me from the madness. I did not repay that kindness well.”

“And so you now fight to make sure his son sees life in freedom,” Tanith guessed. 

“I do it for Naevia just as equally, if not more than, for Crixus. Arieh, the possibility of him, he reunited us when we were all broken.”

“He is hope for you.”

“Our little lion cub,” Agron agreed. 

Tanith gripped his shoulders tight before she stepped back. “Let us return to him then.”

*********************

The afternoon saw their group divided for the first time since they took to the seas. Half stayed on the ship preparing to dry dock it for the winter. The others stayed in an inn, watching over their new horse, cart, and goats. Agron was one of the few stuck on the ship, with Kyros, Nasir, and Elissa for company.

“You could’ve gone with the others,” he told her.

Elissa shrugged from her spot in between the cat and dog. “I like this ship. I would see one more night out in the air.”

“We soon take to the road. You will spend many nights in the open air,” he teased her.

“Not on the sea though,” Elissa said. 

“A true sailor if I’ve ever seen one,” Kyros said. 

He was rolling up the tents with Nasir. Tonight they would have no protection save their cloaks. Nasir and Kyros worked in tandem, by instinct, and finished in an impressive amount of time. Agron held his arms out to Nasir once he was done. 

“Such a dedicated worker,” he said. He ran his lips over the trails of sweat running down Nasir’s face. “Perhaps you will sleep through this night.”

“You have trouble sleeping?” Kyros asked.

Agron ignored the look Nasir gave him. It was time certain worries were lessened. 

“I have,” Nasir paused to gather his thoughts. “I think of what will happen the deeper we go into Syria. How I may look like a man of this land and yet I know not the places or the words. I have no sense of the customs. I am an outsider in the land where I was born.”

Elissa patted Nasir’s hand and he smiled down at her. There were still deep lines of worry in his face.

He gripped Agron’s hand. “It is like I told you those years ago. I am more Roman than Syrian.”

Agron could not stand to see such defeat in Nasir’s eyes. “You are Nasir, a traveler of this world, and more than just a simple title of Roman or Syrian.”

“I am a man with no country,” Nasir said.

“As we all are,” Kyros said. He crouched down in front of Nasir and showed the tattooed symbols on his arm. “I take a bit of each land I’ve seen. These symbols, they come from all. I was born here, have returned here, have acquaintances farther in-land but the seas are my home. It has been my honor to share it with you.” He pressed his lips to Nasir’s cheek. “Have no worry, brother. You are where you should be, with those you should have near.”

“Gratitude,” Nasir said. “It means much to me, brother.”

Agron felt his heart speed-up at the timid smiles the brothers shared. Elissa clutched his hand in joy.

“Still, it will seem odd when we travel, will it not, that I cannot speak as a native?”

“There are people of all kinds here, Nasir. If we shall ever return there, the Damascus you knew was part of a fallen kingdom. The Armenians hold it now, perhaps. Things could’ve changed while I sailed. It is like this city though, a mixture. If any besides Camilla knows Greek, you should be able to communicate in the markets. It’s considered a more trusted tongue than Latin. It will allow for a better deal on your barter attempts.”

“Camilla is the only one who knows it,” Nasir said. He shook his head. “If only Drusa was here. She spoke it fluently, her and Chadara.”

“If Chadara was here she would’ve charmed that horse away from its seller for free,” Agron said.

He was never a fan of the woman but Nasir still loved the memory of her. It brought him comfort to remember the good parts of her and Agron encouraged anything that brought a nostalgic joy to Nasir. 

“You have no need to worry for what is to come,” Kyros said. “These are lands used to outsiders and people traveling from all over. These are some of the most ancient places in the world, Nasir. They make Rome look like a suckling babe. Do not let such worry keep you from your dreams.”

“Hmm,” Agron agreed. “That is my responsibility.”

He was unsuccessful in his attempt to dodge all three pairs of swatting hands.

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/brothers_zps6108132b.png.html)

***********************************

_Antioch_

Agron had seen the most amazing things in his life. The past year alone took him to places and on missions he could never dream of in his boldest tales. His life had become extraordinary the moment he left the ludus, when it felt like his life was over. What was the point of a world without Duro in it? In the south he found life’s meaning again in a man defiant of gaze with an eager bite. 

Antioch, nestled in a river valley with mountains in the distance, felt almost like home. A mockery of it and yet, there was beauty here. It was grand, like Alexandria, but different. It felt ancient. 

Agron knew the sounds of Latin since he was a child. He’d traveled on trade missions with his father and the elders of the clan. He was taught to recognize its letters to both ensure communication and protect himself. He taught Duro as well, how to draw those unfamiliar shapes of the letters and puzzle out the sounds that felt muffled in his mouth. He missed the growl of his people’s tongue. Even when he liberated the ship at Neapolis, it wasn’t people of his clan, of his distinct variation of their tongue, and though he’d never admit it to Spartacus there were times when he had to puzzle out their words. 

Latin was spoken by some here but with a different accent, one that reminded Agron of that snake, Ashur. He knew Lydon, Naevia, and Donar felt it too. They all flinched as they passed through the market place, turning their heads as if the demon would appear out of thought. Other words were yelled in Nasir’s direction; words Agron didn’t recognize and caused Nasir’s shoulders to tense.

“Do you know what they say?” Donar asked.

“Crude things directed towards Tanith,” Nasir said.

Agron turned his head to make sure none threatened her. Elissa already had her covered like the smallest of bodyguards. Lydon stood at the very back and winked at Agron. Earlier Kyros had taken the cart and animals to an inn that would accommodate a party of their size. Argon thought they were condemned to sleep out on the ground again, but Kyros assured him this city was more equipped for large traveling parties than others. 

The goats, horse, and dog were kept in the large yard at front. The cat would stay with them inside, forever at Elissa’s side. The cart was in the back locked down, along with the possessions they could not easily carry with them. Their packs and everything else where left to a large open room with wooden beds low to the ground. They were lacking at least two spots though, even if all three of the children shared a bed. 

“Nasir and I do not mind sharing a bed, but I doubt Lydon and Donar will fit in one space together,” Agron said.

Kyros nodded. “Very observant of you, Agron. Come, I would show you two something.”

Nasir looked as confused as he felt. He did not miss the amused grins on Naevia and Tanith’s faces. 

Kyros led them up up two flights of stairs to one of the smaller rooms.

“It is an indulgence, I know,” Kyros said. “I had put some money aside in hopes of one day helping Nasir pay a bride-price. Now it will help to pay for your appetite, German, in all things, I’m sure. You’ve earned the right to some privacy while we stay here.”

Nasir stepped forward and embraced his brother. “Kyros, this is too generous.”

“It is the least I can do, to make up for lost years. We have much to speak of now, with more time to take to the road. I would have you enjoy some true peace with Agron. Well, as much as you two can get together.”

Kyros exchanged a nod with Agron before passing through the door. 

Nasir opened his arms for Agron and laughed in joy. Agron eagerly joined him. The bed was covered with their beloved red blanket. It was faded from its deep color after all the time in the sun; it remained their touchstone, even more now. 

“We should wait to enjoy this gift until we’ve had a decent wash,” Agron said. “We stink of animals and the road.”

Nasir’s fingers already reached to unclasp Agron’s cloak. “I agree we should not soil the bed, but there is a large chair in the corner. Let’s see if it can stand our test.”

Agron grinned and allowed Nasir to unbuckle and untie all the scabbards and guards, vest and breeches. Greedy fingers dug into Agron’s skin as Nasir circled his body. Agron stood still and remembered to breathe as phantom touches dragged over his flesh; a kiss to the healed scar on his shoulder, a playful pinch to his ass, a nip to the side of his neck. 

“There are times when I think the gods themselves must’ve craved you from stone,” Nasir whispered as he nuzzled the scar above Agron’s heart. “You stole my breath from the first, in your manner, with your body, truly the barbarian I heard your people called. I could never dream of the depth of your heart, that you would allow me inside your walls.”

“Only you,” Agron said, voice choked with emotion. 

Nasir tilted his head to look into Agron’s eyes. There was so much in those dark eyes, so open to Agron now, unlike before, when anger, confusion, and secrets kept them clouded. 

“Touch me,” Nasir said, giving Agron the permission that stayed his hands. 

Agron’s fingers did not fumble as they undid the claps of Nasir’s cloak or untied the knots of his linen shirt and breeches. He’d gotten used to tying and untying knots after months at sea, revealing nimble fingers he thought forever absent. A thrill ran through him as his hands finally rested on bare skin. It was so warm, from the sun and their exertions of the day. Nasir was more toned than when they first met, testament to his years of battle. He’d taken to the sword so well, the spear even better, and found his own way as a warrior. He bore his own scars; from the one on his side that always drew Agron’s attention, to the smaller ones on shoulders, legs and face. 

They were not the men they once were, not even the men who first met and started to fall in love between a raided villa and the road. Those men were shades of their past and forever part of them; they stood now as the older, more tried, still foolish but slightly wiser, versions of their past selves. They had fought together, apart, and at each other’s throats. They’d cut each other down with words and actions; had soothed with apologies, kisses, and promises to not repeat old mistakes. 

They were better now, both as men and as a united force, stronger in a way Agron never thought possible. He had never been in a relationship that had weathered so much in so little a time. He knew there could no other and yet he would still let Nasir go if he asked. He would not hold tight for his own fears, he _would_ wait for his return or die alone. 

Nasir frowned. "I well know that face. Do not think such things,” he said. He tugged Agron down, pressed their foreheads and noses together. “Breath with me. Share my soul. Know the only sky I wish to be under, the only road I wish to walk, is with you.”

Agron softly laughed. “I did not know I took a soothsayer to my bed.”

“Bite your tongue,” Nasir chastised.

Agron grinned. “Do it for me.”

The change was immediate in Nasir. The respectable, gentle man gave way to the wild dog they once called him. He took Agron’s lips in a brutal kiss, teeth clashing as they tried to take each other in, he pushed and Agron pulled until they stumbled into the chair. Agron ignored the slight throb as shoulder met wooden panel. Nasir rested his weight on Agron’s thighs and cupped his face; he lulled Agron into a soft, deep kiss and then, quick as a blink, nipped Agron’s tongue.

Agron pulled back and laughed as he met Nasir’s mischievous eyes. He gladly saw those eyes roll back in pleasure when Agron lowered his hands to Nasir’s ass and slowly dragged him closer. His hands wandered down to grip the backs of Nasir’s strong thighs before teasing the skin behind his knees and laughing at the slight jump of Nasir’s body. 

“We have four walls around us and a stable floor below. I will seek my revenge,” Nasir said.

“Especially when there are no babes to worry about waking,” Agron teased. His fingers ran over the strong v-cut of Nasir’s hips before cupping Nasir’s cock. “Give me the gift of hearing you.”

Nasir leaned back and gasped, a low moan rumbling through his chest. Agron allowed his hands to wander again, one to hold Nasir and keep him steady, the other to tug out the ribbon holding Nasir’s loose curls back. He clasped the thick locks and tugged Nasir back to him, meeting him for another harsh kiss. 

Sounds from the inn crept up to their room yet Agron gave it little notice. All his focus was on the man whose hands gripped his hair, then his shoulder, then his legs, who demanded with his voice and body how Agron should move and where he should touch. It was a decadent sound, that of flesh against flesh, of mouths sucking at skin, of stuttering breaths and deep guttural moans, of grasping to this life, to this freedom, with all they had. 

Agron wanted to take him hard, to feel Nasir move under him, on top of him, all over him, yet he used every last dreg of restraint and battle discipline still present in his heart to stay his impulses. They would only regret soiling their bed now with their exertions and the dirt of the road already on them. There would be far too many questions if they missed the evening meal and Agron was not overly eager to explain their absence to the ever inquisitive Thais the next morn. 

They had no oil with them, save for that meant for Agron’s arm. They would have to remedy such problems after their wash. He took Nasir in hand and reveled in the harsh words that spilled from his lips as he ordered Agron to go faster. Agron licked a long line up Nasir’s neck, savoring the taste of his man on his tongue. He bit the side of Nasir’s neck to silence his orders before taking his lips again and licking inside. He delved deeper into Nasir’s mouth as his hand sped up on Nasir’s cock. Nasir pulled away when his body started to tense and Agron tightened his hold on Nasir’s hips to keep him safe as he started to shake and come all over Agron’s hand, thighs, and stomach. Agron held him as Nasir took a series of deep, shaky breaths. 

He never did expect the swiftness with which Nasir could retaliate. One moment Agron was pressing kisses to the top of Nasir’s head, the next Nasir had dug his teeth deep into the flesh of Agron’s chest. It distracted him long enough for Nasir to slip down and kneel on the floor, taking Agron in his mouth between one breath and the next. 

“Fuck the gods,” Agron said. He rested his hands in Nasir’s hair, gently stoking his ears, face, any bit of skin he could reach. 

Nasir pulled back, an evil grin stretching across those lips wet with spit. "The gods have nothing to do with this." He quickly took Agron back in his mouth, humming low in approval when Agron laughed in despair.

Far sooner than he liked, it was over. He never stood a chance when Nasir set to task. Agron opened his eyes and wiped away the traces of his seed from the sides of Nasir’s lips.

Nasir grinned. “The chair still stands.”

Agron laughed and opened his arms to Nasir. “Its occupant does not.” 

 

************************

Antioch was a blessing for them. It was their first extended stay anywhere, including Alexandria which charged them each just to _leave_ the city, that saw burdens lessened. It was hard not to overindulge on luxuries like fresh meat, fresh greens, and good wine. He doubted Lydon and Donar had refrained from visiting the city’s whorehouses. It was the first time they truly had opportunity to spend some of their extra coin.

Agron could not recall the last time it felt so easy to breathe. It had been _years_. He could feel worry lift off him. Even the dreaded realization that his shoulder still felt too tight for his normal activity left him. 

He should’ve expected the gods to fuck him in the way they so favored. He and Naevia were headed to a meat stall when a familiar and hated name caught their attention. Two travelers, clearly Roman by their clothing and accents, spoke of Crassus. Agron’s hands immediately went for the sword that should’ve been at his side. He was ready to grab Naevia and run when she gestured at him to quiet. 

“Did you hear? Crassus finished off the last of that rebellion. Crucified them all I heard,” one said to the other. They almost seemed to laugh about it.

Agron quickly embraced Naevia. He ran a soothing hand down her back as she shook.

“He didn’t get that leader of theirs. What was he name? Sparat-something? Said they couldn’t find his body. You know how those Roman generals are. Wanted to drag that one through the streets. That dog gave them one last defiant final act. Fucking slaves never know their place. Rumor has it Crassus would’ve lost to the slaves if it wasn’t for Pompey.”

“Pompey? That upstart? He has no lineage to claim. He reaches beyond his grasp.”

“By fighting an army of rebelling slaves? I say good on him. Mongrels should finish off mongrels.”

Naevia raised her chin. “Let us get the meat and return to our lodgings. I feel little need to see the city this day.”

Agron could only nod in agreement. He did not know how they would tell the others. He and Naevia spent the day in shared silence and contemplation. Each asked what caused such a mood in them and neither could articulate it.

How did you say those words, tell them that beloved comrades were dying in one of the Roman’s most horrific ways while they slept in comfort? How could they say such things when the children were ever eager listeners? 

It got worse that afternoon. Nasir was off to the baths with Camilla and Tanith. Agron was taking the moment to confer with his ghosts. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. It hadn’t started until he prepared for a rest. It was after he took off his new cloak, with its detailed craftsmanship and realized it was a luxury and one he owned, that it started. A little thing, such a tiny small unnoticeable detail of his current life, and his hands started to shake. He couldn’t breathe in this room.

He ran, down the stairs, through the streets, and out past the fortified walls to the banks of the Orontes. He took his time to calm his beating heart and let the wind cool the rush of heat he felt in his face. 

“Heavy thoughts?” a raspy voiced asked him in Latin. 

Agron turned to find an older man sprawled out next to the steps leading to the bridge. He wore the clothes of a beggar and the smile of a wealthy man. 

“Is that how you make your coin? Sit on the bridge ready to talk with any troubled soul that comes past?” he asked.

The man grinned. “I’ve saved a few that way, I’m sure. It costs you nothing to have me listen. Advice, well, I don’t turn down the coins for it.” The man tilted his head as if he heard voices on the wind. “Your footfalls are heavy, so you must be a strong man, or a heavy one. Your breathing has already slowed down, so not without some training. A soldier, perhaps? Not a Roman, no, no self-respecting Roman would speak with that accent.”

Agron rolled his eyes. “Can you not see me for what I am?”

“No,” the man said, “I cannot.”

It was then that Agron realized he’d insulted one of the blind. He could feel the well-aimed and deserved slap Nasir would deliver later. 

“Apologies,” Agron stuttered out. “I meant no offense.”

“I am certain you did just not on that matter alone.” He grinned. “Don’t you know these stories always have a young hero listening to the words of an older blind man?”

“I am no hero.”

“And saying so makes you more of one than you know. That’s the thing about surviving. You have to live with yourself.”

“I know not of what you speak,” Agron said, ready to turn from the man.

“You are a young fighting man who stands alone. Does that not say enough?”

Agron shook his head. “You might want to consult your oracles, Seer. I never stand alone.”

It was with renewed heart that he returned to the inn. Naevia met him in the yard where she was brushing down the horse’s coat.

“We must tell them. After the children seek sleep,” she said.

Agron took the brush from her hand and pulled her into a tight hold. It was there, hidden behind the bulk of the horse, that they both shed tears for so many lost.

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/agronnaeviaonelastcry_zps2f93fc01.png.html)

***********************

Kyros approached him as they neared the end of their fortnight stay. He looked nervous and flinched under Agron’s gaze. He’d never done so before and Agron feared the words eager to spill from his mouth.

“What is it you desire, Kyros?”

“It is still early for this yet, we’ve only just approached the pre-winter months. Still, I would seek your permission on this.”

Agron was tired, his arm was sore from training, and he really could use some strong ale. He had little patience to trade words with Kyros.

“Speak plainly, Kyros, so I may find my bed all that sooner.”

“We are in Syria now, Antioch, and we take the road to Damascus soon. I would have us spend the fall and winter there. The whole season, that is, until it is time to take to the seas again. I have connections there to secure us local employment and housing.”

“You have not led us wrong so far with your connections. Still, I am wary of being stranded here.”

“We could always take passage on a series of river boats before joining a larger transport ship, if need be. Or even the long journey over land. It’s not my concern. I just, I would have us go deeper into the land. I’d like Nasir to see the countryside where he—where _we_ —are from. I’ll ask the others, of course, if the extended stay is agreed but there is added weight to your approval.”

Home was an important thing to Agron. Even now, when it was turning into people more than a place, Agron knew how important history and tradition could be in forming in a person. Every piece of armor and shield he took up while in Germania had symbols which detailed his family’s and clan’s achievements. 

Kyros had more than earned the right to share his with Nasir. 

“I will agree with this. The approval you should seek though, the one that matters the most, is Nasir’s.”

Kyros nodded. “That is true, though you always go where the other follows.”

Agron frowned as he recalled darker times. “No, not always.”

Kyros looked surprised. “You two seem so well matched.”

“We both have ill tempers,” Agron admitted. “We are also often the greatest of fools when it comes to each other; a lesson I would not have realized without the many words of others. Still, I will speak with him either now or after our evening meal.”

“Do you think he will refuse?” Kyros asked.

“I think Nasir is the only one who can decide where his future lies,” Agron replied. 

********************************

Their dinner that night was shared by all on old blankets outside the inn. It was a different sort of luxury to dine with everyone again, under the stars. 

“At least we have a dinner table that does not sway,” Donar said. Thais, perched on his knee, nodded in agreement. 

Agron rested against Nasir, letting him shoulder their weight for now, and felt himself relax. There would always be a part of him hyper-alert to danger and outsiders. Agron had lived thus for so long, he could not imagine another way. 

Tanith was telling a story of the Egyptian gods involving love affairs, murder, and resurrection. Lydon and Seti were both enraptured by her while Donar kept strategically covering Thais’ ears.

“Are there not better stories to share with the children?” Agron asked.

Nasir snorted. “Oh, yes, please let us have you tell them of your Wild Hunt where ghosts and demons capture or murder all they come across.”

Agron pointed at Tanith. “She is speaking of a dismembered body that was scattered to the four winds.”

“Agron, you _have_ dismembered a body and scattered it to the four winds or have you already forgotten the battle outside Nola?” Nasir asked.

“That guard went after the children and the goats. He had it coming,” Agron argued. 

“Obviously not stories for the babes,” Kyros agreed. 

Nasir reached over and flicked his brother’s ear. “Perhaps we should hear at tale from your journeys at sea? Our very own Ulysses at the evening meal.”

Kyros snorted. “If I am to be anyone associated with the sea, I will be Ea, of my own people. Besides, if I’m Ulysses, who is Tanith?”

“Penelope,” Camilla teased.

“Not Circe?” Kyros asked.

“No, no, Circe is clearly our Elissa,” Camilla said. 

Elissa preened at the compliment. Agron guessed it was a compliment. He wasn’t familiar with the tale. He exchanged a bewildered look with Donar and Sigihild.

“Barbarians,” Kyros muttered. “Brother, see to your man’s education.”

Nasir laughed as Agron tilted his head up to look at him. “Agron is such an avid pupil; perhaps I should try.”

“I both fear and welcome that gleam in your eye,” Agron said. He met Nasir’s lips in a brief kiss. “Though, I should warn you, my people do not like attempted civilization by outsiders.”

“No one would ever attempt to civilize you,” Naevia said. 

She sat down across from them and let Arieh explore the area. He’d gone from crawling, to bumbling steps, to whole stretches of semi-steady walking on his own. Agron had already asked about possible leashes and received slaps in response. He was only concerned for their little lion cub; he knew well the fucking Gaul who was his father and his tendency to get into all sorts of unlooked for disasters.

“Ag, up!” Arieh declared as he toddled over to them. Agron held out his arms and eagerly accepted him. “Zir!” Arieh said as he reached up and patted Nasir’s face. He then proceeded to name them all from his perch on Agron’s knee. The long-drawn out, “Lissssa,” saw them all laugh with joy. 

There were wounds that would never be wholly healed among them all. They had experienced an array of things which could not be forgotten with good food, decent wine, and close friends, but they surely aided. Agron knew, in that very moment, if he never saw his homeland again, he would be fine. He’d found love, brotherhood, family, in the most unforeseen places. If this was to be his life, a traveling existence with this rowdy crew, he would have no complaints.

*********************************

Night was turning to day when Agron, unable to sleep, reluctantly woke Nasir. 

“We must have words,” he said. He soothed the grumble from Nasir’s lips with a swift kiss. “Please, Nasir.”

“All the nights you seek to force me to sleep and on this night, when I take to it naturally, you wake me. You are impossible, Agron.”

“And yours, always yours,” Agron said. He wrapped his arm around Nasir’s waist and pulled Nasir’s back against his chest. “Did you speak with your brother?”

“Kyros and I discussed his plans for Damascus. Naevia seems eager to be in one place for an extended stay. I think we could all do for a long rest. Even Kyros seems reluctant to travel again. We were always either going to stop for the winter or take the land passes. I am not eager to skirt the camp of a Roman army though. A longer stay will rejuvenate us until it is time to return to Germania.”

Nasir spoke of that end with such certainty. Agron was no longer so sure. 

“We could stay here though, in Syria,” he said. “Get you a few more horses. Find me some more goats. I can raise goats anywhere. We’ll even get sheep for Donar. I’m sure he misses them.”

Nasir turned to face him. He grasped Agron’s head between his hands. “Agron, I want to see the lands that made you. I want to go to Germania. For now we rest in these lands. Come spring we will continue our journey.”

“I would not mind if we stayed here,” Agron said.

“ _I_ would. I cannot help but think some of our forces escaped. I refuse to believe they all died on the cross or under Pompey’s commands. I do not wish to think of a world where Saxa’s flame doesn’t burn still. I cannot live with myself if the possibility exists that they escaped to Germania thinking to find us there and we stayed here. For what reason? Because it was convenient? No, Rome’s influence is already felt here. They fight her and she will win. She always wins. I would rather be in the land of those I know will never accept their rule.”

“Germania could fall.”

Nasir shook his head. “Not without a spectacular battle. Besides, those Romans hate the cold. It will be a good defense against them.”

“What of Kyros? Would your brother not prefer you here?”

“Kyros has spent his whole life wandering the seas. He has reason to stop now. The water is more his home than this place where we were born. I will not force him to come with us but my future—our future, Agron—does not lie here.”

Agron traced the line of Nasir’s bottom lip. “It could, if you truly wished it.”

Nasir kissed his finger before pulling away. “You have been gone from home, what, six years at most?”

Agron nodded.

“In this group we have Naevia who can’t even recall her home outside of the ludus. There is Arieh who is a child of rebellion and exile. We have a Nubian, a Tyrian, two Egyptians, two Greeks, two Syrians, and three Germans. Of that group, only the Germans clearly recall their homelands and of them, only _you_ still have family possibly alive and searching for you. We all choose to go with you, Agron. Germania remains our goal and our destination. It may take us years to get there, by land and sea, but you will be our guide towards home.”

Nasir ran a finger down Agron’s cheekbone and then dragged his thumb across Agron’s lips. 

“Even if the others decided to stay here, or we lose them along the way, my home is forever with you.”

Agron’s heart had never felt so full as it did in that moment. They were decided then. Fall and winter in Syria and spring for travel. Germania still lay in their future. Agron no longer needed to cling to the possibility of returning to it. It no longer held the prized position of motivation for him. 

He had everything he needed to survive in this world right beside him. They would always find a way, possibly not always together, but always returned to each other.

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/Rivlee/media/peaceofmindhopefullyfinalversion_zps1e7c6653.png.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by pameluke and gaygreekgladiators. All remaining mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I could not have written or finished this fic without a whole team of people and support behind me. 
> 
> I have to give my first thanks to Kay, my dearest Kailey, who always believes in my work no matter what and never tells me that something is too out of left field to try. 
> 
> To Steorie, who was the first person to read this work besides myself. I must thank her for her time, her support, and her gorgeous artwork. I cannot express how much it means to me, having worked on this fic with you. We should do it again sometime (if only for more combined hair porn love). :) 
> 
> To Jan my long-suffering beta, who made this work so much better than it would’ve been otherwise. 
> 
> To Alex and Sarah, who both read over the whole fic, gave me their time, their support, and in Alex’s case very detailed notes. (If you like the penultimate scene, send thanks her way.) Sarah has been such a source of support for both of us as we worked through these big bangs, I don't think I can properly explain how grateful I am.
> 
> To Rachel, who also took time to read it over and assured me it worked as a general idea. 
> 
> To Sorelh and Wishy who, either from my whining on twitter or tumblr, always gave me their cheerleading support. 
> 
> To everyone who has ever read, commented, reblogged, or left kudos on one of my works; that’s the type of motivation that keeps a writer writing. 
> 
> ** Gratitude **


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